Better his end had been as the end of a cloudless day, Bright, by the word of Zeus, with a golden star, Wrought of a golden fame, and flung to the central sky, To gleam on a stormless tomb for evermore: --Whether or not there fell To the touch of an alien hand The sheen of his purple robe and the shine of his diadem, Better his end had been To die as an old man dies, --But the fates are ever the fates, and a crown is ever a crown.
The WildernessCome away! come away! there's a frost along the marshes, And a frozen wind that skims the shoal where it shakes the dead black water;There's a moan across the lowland and a wailing through the woodland Of a dirge that sings to send us back to the arms of those that love us.
There is nothing left but ashes now where the crimson chills of autumn Put off the summer's languor with a touch that made us glad For the glory that is gone from us, with a flight we cannot follow, To the slopes of other valleys and the sounds of other shores.
Come away! come away! you can hear them calling, calling, Calling us to come to them, and roam no more.
Over there beyond the ridges and the land that lies between us, There's an old song calling us to come!
Come away! come away! -- for the scenes we leave behind us Are barren for the lights of home and a flame that's young forever;And the lonely trees around us creak the warning of the night-wind, That love and all the dreams of love are away beyond the mountains.