HOW tenderly my antique grace Has fled, in quiet shoes of dawn; Leaving me like a sterile space That gardens frown upon. Not so vacant, ancient Greece Nor so abandoned, Menelaus, Questioning the tight-lipped seas Where lovely Helen's way is. Burn me utterly in flame Let my tongue with fire be fluent, If, like Troy, I yet entertain For Troy's ten years my gracious truant. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LAUGHTER (YOUTH SPEAKS TO HIS OWN OLD AGE) by CONRAD AIKEN FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE by EMMA LAZARUS DEXTER GORDON: COPENHAGEN/AVERY FISHER HALL by KAREN SWENSON NEW NEIGHBORHOOD by KAREN SWENSON PARIS IN SPRING by SARA TEASDALE |