T.S. Eliot: Circe's Palace
With the voice of men in pain,
Are flowers that no man knows.
Their petals are fanged and red
With hideous streak and stain.
They sprang from the limbs of the dead.--
We shall not come here again.
In the forest which thickens below,
Along the garden stairs
The sluggish python lies;
The peacock's walk, stately and slow
And they look at us with the eyes
Of men whom we knew long ago.
Taken from http://world.std.com/~raparker/exploring/tseliot/works/poems/eliot-harvard-poems.html