III
27 lines✦
or less of grief than oursThe gods wrought long agoTo bruise men one by one;But with the incessant hoursFresh grief and greener woeSpring, as the sudden sunYear after year makes flowers;And these die down and grow,And the next year lacks none. As these men sleep, have sleptThe old heroes in time fled,No dream-divided sleep;And holier eyes have weptThan ours, when on her deadGods have seen Thetis weep,With heavenly hair far-sweptBack, heavenly hands outspreadRound what she could not keep, Could not one day withhold,One night; and like as theseWhite ashes of no weight,Held not his urn the coldAshes of Heracles?For all things born one gateOpens, no gate of gold;Opens; and no man seesBeyond the gods and fate.
✦