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New Digs, Mycenae


ISSUE:  Autumn 1955

      (For Kostas Kaftos)

The basement gapes to pick-axe blow,
As bee-hive rafters thud and ring.
Pray what will this grey package show,
Thrown in a nook and tied with string?

Excitement climbs to fever mark;
There is so much we have not seen;
O treasures lurking in the dark,
Come forth, reveal what you have been!

A rose fallen from Helen’s lips?
The dirk worn by her pretty boy?
The roll of Agamemnon’s ships,
Or green rust once a shield of Troy?

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