Sweet peas drooping in a vase
Like the tears of Niobe,
Poppies like the cheeks of Mars
Kissing the Aphrodite.
Pansies like a dryad's eyes,
Open-wide and half-afraid,
Like unfolded butterflies
In a little Tempe glade.
* * * * *
Flowers and words might be my toys
Half a drowsy summer day,
But at night I hear the noise
Of bombardment far away.
Very quiet I am then,
Like a moon-enchanted boy,
As I see the khaki men
Storm the granite walls of Troy.