The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves,
The brilliant moon and all the milky sky,
And all the famous harmony of leaves,
Had blotted out man's image and his cry.
A girl arose that had red mournful lips
And seemed the greatness of the world in tears,
Doomed like Odysseus and the labouring ships
And proud as a Priam murdered with his peers;
Arose, and on the instant clamourous eaves,
Aclimbing moon upon an empty sky,
And all the lamentation of the leaves,
Could but compose man's image and his cry.
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