Long-Legged Fly

That civilisation may not sink,

Its great battle lost,

Quiet the dog, tether the

To a distant post;

Our master Caesar is in the

Where the maps are spread,

His eyes fixed upon nothing,

A hand under his head.

Like a long-legged fly upon the

His mind moves upon silence.

That the topless towers be

And men recall that face,

Move most gently if move you

In this lonely place.

She thinks, part woman, three parts a child,

That nobody looks; her

Practise a tinker

Picked up on a street.

Like a long-legged fly upon the

His mind moves upon silence.

That girls at puberty may

The first Adam in their thought,

Shut the door of the Pope's chapel,

Keep those children out.

There on that scaffolding

Michael Angelo.

With no more sound than the mice

His hand moves to and fro.

Like a long-legged fly upon the

His mind moves upon silence.