You stood almost level

with the lance-bearers

and so slight.

And I wondered as you clasped

your shoulder-strap

at the strength of your wrist

and the turn of your young fingers,

and the lift of your shorn locks,

and the bronze

of your sun-burnt neck.

All of this,

and the curious knee-cap,

fitted above the wrought greaves,

and the sharp muscles of your back

which the tunic could not cover—

the outline

no garment could deface.

I wonder if you knew how I watched,

how I crowded before the spearsmen—

but the gods wanted you,

 Prev. P 33/64 next