She looked over his shoulder | |
For vines and olive trees, | |
Marble well-governed cities | |
And ships upon untamed seas, | |
But there on the shining metal | 5 |
His hands had put instead | |
An artificial wilderness | |
And a sky like lead. | |
| |
A plain without a feature, bare and brown, | |
No blade of grass, no sign of neighborhood, | 10 |
Nothing to eat and nowhere to sit down, | |
Yet, congregated on its blankness, stood | |
An unintelligible multitude, | |
A million eyes, a million boots in line, | |
Without expression, waiting for a sign. | 15 |
| |
Out of the air a voice without a face | |
Proved by statistics that some cause was just | |
In tones as dry and level as the place: | |
No one was cheered and nothing was discussed; | |
Column by column in a cloud of dust | 20 |
They marched away enduring a belief | |
Whose logic brought them, somewhere else, to grief. | |
| |
She looked over his shoulder | |
For ritual pieties, | |
White flower-garlanded heifers, | 25 |
Libation and sacrifice, | |
But there on the shining metal | |
Where the altar should have been, | |
She saw by his flickering forge-light | |
Quite another scene. | 30 |
| |
Barbed wire enclosed an arbitrary spot | |
Where bored officials lounged (one cracked a joke) | |
And sentries sweated for the day was hot: | |
A crowd of ordinary decent folk | |
Watched from without and neither moved nor spoke | 35 |
As three pale figures were led forth and bound | |
To three posts driven upright in the ground. | |
| |
The mass and majesty of this world, all | |
That carries weight and always weighs the same | |
Lay in the hands of others; they were small | 40 |
And could not hope for help and no help came: | |
What their foes like to do was done, their shame | |
Was all the worst could wish; they lost their pride | |
And died as men before their bodies died. | |
| |
She looked over his shoulder | 45 |
For athletes at their games, | |
Men and women in a dance | |
Moving their sweet limbs | |
Quick, quick, to music, | |
But there on the shining shield | 50 |
His hands had set no dancing-floor | |
But a weed-choked field. | |
| |
A ragged urchin, aimless and alone, | |
Loitered about that vacancy; a bird | |
Flew up to safety from his well-aimed stone: | 55 |
That girls are raped, that two boys knife a third, | |
Were axioms to him, who'd never heard | |
Of any world where promises were kept, | |
Or one could weep because another wept. | |
| |
The thin-lipped armorer, | 60 |
Hephaestos, hobbled away, | |
Thetis of the shining breasts | |
Cried out in dismay | |
At what the god had wrought | |
To please her son, the strong | 65 |
Iron-hearted man-slaying Achilles | |
Who would not live long. | |