Old men upon the wall of Troy Knew the word that would destroy Their chilly peace, and faces gray Know the self-same word today. Age grips the earth; in subtle grooves We drive the plunging iron hooves, And toil with lean gratuitous hand To order what shall never stand. But when the lovers pass, we start And move, as trespassers, apart. Their clumsy fingers on the flower Cry out we overstay the hour: The singing lip, the indolent eye, Without intention, bid us die, And passion, claiming nothing, owns From sky to deep foundation stones. Only for lovers, sage or fool, God set a fiery star to cool. |