What It Does

The sea bit, As they said it would, And the hill slid, As they said it would, And the poor dead Nodded agog The poor head. O topmost lofty Tower of Troy, The poem apparently Speaks with joy Of terrible things. Where is the pleasure The poetry brings? Tell if you can, What does it make? A city of man That will not shake, Or if it shake, Shake with the splendor Of the poem’s pleasure.