A slow, unbroken look

From time to time

Here on the agricultural

And poppy-dotted districts of the right-hand slope

Aeneas' thousands occupy his lords

Lighting each other's pipes besides their wheels

Reckon the battle has battles do

Found its own voice, that, presently far off

Blends with the sound of clear bright water as it falls

Over their covert's mossy heights;

A peaceful dust-free place circled by poplar trees,

Good cover and green shade.

Aeneas often sits apart.

He has his mother's face: white skin, green eyes,

A slow, unbroken look. And though there is

A touch to much of satisfaction in his confidence

As with the Prince your eyes incline to him.

Logue's Homer, All Day Permanent Red: War Music Continued, Faber and Faber, 2003.