Troy has fallen; and never will be
War like the war that was waged for me.
Could I but have those ten years back again
With the love, and the glory, the pleasure like pain,
The clash of arms, and the din of the fight,
The feasting and music, the color and light;
Yet, mixed with it all, there sounded to me
Ever a moan from the far-off sea.
There still remains this for all time to be:
The war of the world was fought for me.
Give them no pity who died for me there,
Men can never more die for a face so fair.
And what does it matter that now they lie,
Quiet and silent beneath the sky?
Remember that none evermore can be
Back for those years in Troy with me.