Tros in July

It was in the script, perhaps
Dardanos, after all, meant 'burn';
And now the wailing ghost of Tros
Trudges the July afternoon,
When a writhing stench of loss
Lies about the half-dead year.
His eyes scan the wilderness
Now the haunt of ash and fear,
Where the Dardanian gate was,
Where once stood the topless towers.