Beneath The Walls Of Mycenae Poem by Edmond Sheehy

Beneath the walls of Mycenae we see
outlines of roads traced through the summer's haze
on hills where straying flocks graze peacefully.
Through olive groves climb eroded pathways.
They rose once to halls that shone with glory,
peopled by a genius which blazed like flame.
For reasons long since lost to history,
these walls were breached and farmers used reclaim
strewn stones they believed were stacked by giants.
Myths obscured the route to regain culture.
Disaster may not follow one mischance.
Stubborn arrogance undermines grandeur.
All we achieve will end in disarray
if we won't notice when we lose our way.