Goatherd Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

Diggers found a mask of gold
In the earth. A king so bold
Had worn it.

Agamemnon's wealth of old,
Necklaces with cunning rolled
Saw daylight.

One man claims he saw the king's
Mighty face still lingering
In the soil.

I, a goatherd of that time,
Ne'er a trace left nor a rhyme
Of my life.

Skins of goats and sticks of wood
Substance were of all my goods,
Home a hut.

Slave I'd been when just a boy.
It was at the fall of Troy
I ran away.

Milking goats and roving 'bout
Was my way of eking
Out survival.

Far from palaces and moats
Lay the plot I herded goats
And then died.

If ever you abandon fame
And find yourself at Mycenaeum
In that field

Then rest with me at eventide.
No mask of gold is there to hide
My timeworn face.