Too old she’s grown – and all her glory gone,
That beauty cool as marble stone.
The prying world comes to her door,
Finds her demented, old and poor -
Athena is admired no more.
Perhaps she waited, hoped in vain
Her fortunes would restore again -
Declined the cup to end the pain.
But now she breathes polluted air,
And sees with vague unblinking stare
Acropolis still standing there
With Parthenon, whose beauty lingers,
Priceless gem on ancient fingers.