After the wailing had already begun
along the walls, their ruin certain,
the Trojans fidgeted with bits of wood
in the three-ply doors, itsy-bitsy
pieces of wood, fussing with them.
And began to get their nerve back and feel hopeful.
On Reading A Recent Greek Poet
Bertolt Brecht
(1)
Poem topics: feel, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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