Читать книгу The Garden of Dreams - Cawein Madison Julius - Страница 23

Dark in the west the sunset's somber wrack

Unrolled vast walls the rams of war had split,

Along whose battlements the battle lit

Tempestuous beacons; and, with gates hurled back,

A mighty city, red with ruin and sack,

Through burning breaches, crumbling bit by bit,

Showed where the God of Slaughter seemed to sit

With conflagration glaring at each crack.

Who knows? perhaps as sleep unto us makes

Our dreams as real as our waking seems

With recollections time can not destroy,

So in the mind of Nature now awakes

Haply some wilder memory, and she dreams

The stormy story of the fall of Troy.