The Unchanged

IF we could salvage Babylon From times's grim heap of dust and bones; If we could charm cool waters back To sing against her thirsty stones; If, on a day, We two should stray Down some long, Babylonian way— Perhaps the strangest sight of all Would be the street boys playing ball.

If through Pompeii's agelong night A yellow sun again might shine, And little, sea-born breezes lift The hair of lovers sipping wine, If, in some fair, Dim temple there, We watched Pompeii come to prayer— Not the strange altar would surprise But strangeness of familiar eyes!

Ay, should our magic straightly wake Atlantis from her sea-rocked sleep And we on some Processional Look down where dancing maidens leap, If one flushed maid Beside us stayed To tie more firm her loosened braid— Would not the shaking wonder be To find her just like you and me?