Helen of Troy has sprung from Hell <br />To claim her ancient throne, <br />So we have bidden friends farewell <br />To follow her alone. <br />The Lady of the laurelled brow, <br />The Queen of pride and power, <br />Looks rather like a phantom now, <br />And rather like a flower. <br /> <br />Deep in her eyes the lamp of night <br />Burns with a secret flame, <br />Where shadows pass that have no sight, <br />And ghosts that have no name. <br /> <br />For mute is battle's brazen horn <br />That rang for Priest and King, <br />And she who drank of that brave morn <br />Is pale with evening. <br /> <br />An hour there is when bright words flow, <br />A little hour for sleep, <br />An hour between, when lights are low, <br />And then she seems to weep, <br /> <br />But no less lovely than of old <br />She shines, and almost hears <br />The horns that blew in days of gold, <br />The shouting charioteers. <br /> <br />And still she breaks the hearts of men, <br />Their hearts and all their pride, <br />Doomed to be cruel once again, <br />And live dissatisfied.<br /><br />James Elroy Flecker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/destroyer-of-ships-men-cities/
