Were one forever, stone and ghost and dream—
And Troy was gone like vapor in the dark.
So the dawn came, and toiling caravans,
Whose princes halted, arrogant as hawks,
To stare but once into the Sphinx’s eyes
... And so were staring till Death breathed on them
With the slant feathers of his ruffling wing,
Seeking within the rock, the stubborn rock.
The gaze and burning of their Lost Desire.