I myself saw furious with blood br Neoptolemus, at his side the black Atridae, br Hecuba and the hundred daughters, Priam br Cut down, his filth drenching the holy fires. br In that extremity I bore me well, br A true gentleman, valorous in arms, br Distinterested and honourable. Then fled br That was a time when civilization br Run by the few fell to the many, and br Crashed to the shout of men, the clang of arms: br Cold victualing I seized, I hoisted up br The old man my father upon my back, br In the smoke made by sea for a new world br Saving little—a mind imperishable br If time is, a love of past things tenuous br As the hesitation of receding love. br br (To the reduction of uncitied littorals br We brought chiefly the vigor of prophecy, br Our hunger breeding calculation br And fixed triumphs) br br I saw the thirsty dove br IN the glowing fields of Troy, hemp ripening br And tawny corn, the thickening Blue Grass br All lying rich forever in the green sun. br I see all things apart, the towers that men br Contrive I too contrived long, long ago. br Now I demand little. The singular passion br Abides its object and consumes desire br In the circling shadow of its appetite. br There was a time when the young eyes were slow, br Their flame steady beyond the firstling fire, br br I stood in the rain, far from home at nightfall br By the Potomac, the great Dome lit the water, br The city my blood had built I knew no more br While the screech-owl whistled his new delight br Consecutively dark. br br Stuck in the wet mire br Four thousand leagues from the ninth buried city br I thought of Troy, what we had built her for.