At the Ruins of Troy
Achilles stumped about in this dust,Beneath these walls. Those poppies are less redThan petals bled by Trojans and GreeksFor Helen and the rest. Priam’s surging lustWas small beside this rise and fall of land,The snake of river slipping out to sea,The Dardanelles, lying at the kneeOf Turkey, a girl stretching on the sand. The tendons […]