Lower your swords, lads! Sir, we won this town!
You take your pleasures and let us take ours!”
I reeled into the blackness of an arch,
And saw before me, white-robed, laurel-crowned,
Just such a maiden as might once have danced
Along the friezes of the Parthenon;
A face like that on an old silver coin,
Demetrius sent me, clear-cut, beautiful
With all the burning beauty of the Greek.
Pure and serene her grey eyes gazed in mine....