“Nor can our fathers’ oldest legend tell
Who built so great a city.”
I went my way.
And in a thousand ages I returned,
And found not even a stone of that great City,
Not even a shadow of all that lust and pride.
But only an old peasant gathering herbs
Where once it stood, upon the naked plain.
“What wars destroyed it, and how long ago?”
I asked him. Slowly lifting his grey head,