This newest poem is a Petrarchan sonnet, a fairly conventional love poem about the sudden growth of a new infatuation in the wake of a disastrous previous relationship. Depending heavily upon classical and mythological allusions, the poem, though slightly rough about the edges, communicates a certain emotional urgency which I fear too much polish would soften. On second reading, I found that I had (unconsciously) cribbed some of the language of the final line from Yeats; nonetheless, I decided that the line was essential enough and the fundamental thrust different enough that I could overlook the fault, at least for now.
Helen was here before; you are not she;
Or, if you were, who then was that fair maid
Who brought the monuments and colonnades
Of Troy to so much dust? It cannot be
That Helen she was not; the evidence
Is undeniable; see here the better part
Of Troy in ash; see here my sorry heart!
Time's dulled my mind, but not deceived my sense
Of sight; one Helen, then, must be a liar--
It only took one Caesar to take Gaul--
Or might it be that Helens come in turns?
If so, then kindly, please, delay the fire--
Not for too long--I need the time, is all,
To build another Troy for you to burn.