Through portico of my elegant house you stalk <br />With your wild furies, disturbing garlands of fruit <br />And the fabulous lutes and peacocks, rending the net <br />Of all decorum which holds the whirlwind back. <br />Now, rich order of walls is fallen; rooks croak <br />Above the appalling ruin; in bleak light <br />Of your stormy eye, magic takes flight <br />Like a daunted witch, quitting castle when real days break. <br /> <br />Fractured pillars frame prospects of rock; <br />While you stand heroic in coat and tie, I sit <br />Composed in Grecian tunic and psyche-knot, <br />Rooted to your black look, the play turned tragic: <br />Which such blight wrought on our bankrupt estate, <br />What ceremony of words can patch the havoc?<br /><br />Sylvia Plath<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/conversation-among-the-ruins/
