Friday, 15 February 2013

'secret joy in a mist of gold'

(So was it with Helen in Troy.)

  And how shall I call the thing that came
    At the first hour to Ilion city?
  Call it a dream of peace untold,
  A secret joy in a mist of gold,
  A woman's eye that was soft, like flame,
    A flower which ate a man's heart with pity.
'Agamemnon' by Aeschylus