Page:Collected poems of Flecker.djvu/82

 Destroyer of Ships, Men, Cities 

Helen of Troy has sprung from Hell To claim her ancient throne, So we have bidden friends farewell To follow her alone.

The Lady of the laurelled brow, The Queen of pride and power, Looks rather like a phantom now, And rather like a flower.

Deep in her eyes the lamp of night Burns with a secret flame, Where shadows pass that have no sight, And ghosts that have no name.

For mute is battle's brazen horn That rang for Priest and King, And she who drank of that brave morn Is pale with evening.