I have sat here Harry in my armchair
(Putney-bus, Putney-bus) (1)
watching the still hound and the kid
with the dark hair
which the wind of my upraised voice
tore like a green matted mess
(Ô andres Athênaioi) (2)
of wet cobwebs and seaweed at twilight,
but though I greatly delighted
(êraman men egô sethen, Aldi, palai pota) (3)
in these and the Ezra whiskers
that which sets me nearest to weeping
(ho de Klearchos eipe) (4)
is the classical rhythm of the rare speeches,
O the unspoken speeches
Hellenic.