Your heart was loaded with its fate like lead
Pressing against the net of flesh: and those
Countries that crept back across the boundaries
Where you had forced open the arena
Of limelit France with your star at the centre,
Closed in on you, terrified no longer
At the diamond in your head
Which cut their lands and killed their men.
You were the last to see what they all saw
That you, the blinding one, were now the blind
The Man of Destiny, ill destined.
For, as your face grew older, there hung a lag
Like a double chin in your mind. The jaw
Had in its always forward thrust
Grown heavy. The bones now drove
Towards a bed. But to sleep there, the peace
Must sign with blood the sheets of Russian snow.
Your quicksilver declaiming eye
Had frozen to the stare of a straight line
Which only saw goals painted in its beam