Explore "The House of Beauty" by Francis Sherman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
She pauseth; and as each great mirror swings / (O ruined Helen, O once golden hair) / I see OEnone's ashes scattered there.
Another, and, behold, the shadowed things / Are violated tombs of shrunken kings.
And yet another (O, how thou wert fair! ), / And I see one, black-clad, who prayeth where / No sound of sword on cloven helmet rings.
Yet, were I Paris, once more should I see / Troy's seaward gates for us swung open wide.
Or old Nile's glory, were I Anthony.
Or, were I Launcelot, the garden-side / At Joyous Gard. Surely; for even to me, / Where Love hath lived hath Beauty never died.