poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

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.

Added: 31 Aug 2001 | Last Read: 8 Nov 2009 4:00 AM | Viewed: 3599 times

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