As I do sometimes, this is a piece of a larger poem, in this case the opening of the famous Poem of the Cid, from around the year 1140 in Spain. I think I like it because it reminds me of Ozymandias.
He turned and looked back to see the towers
tears running from his eyes
Doors left open without locks.
The porches bare of either pelts or coverings,
Perches empty of falcons, empty of molted hawks.