The voiceless cry of the ecstatic dream,
Shone with the radiance of a consuming wish
Upon the desert, and stretched out her arms
As if to take that whole great ghost of Troy,
Pennon and panoply, champion and car,
Back to its home, her breast.
Would there ever be a bud Helen’s
If the sap considered storm? Song
It would stay in happy mud,
Damned and sleepy, safe and warm!