Category: Poetry
[_Reads._] To our beloved son, greeting. Add to our thoughts of you, if possible to add, but a little, and you are more than old heroes—not to bemean your genius, who might cry “Was that all!” We pile barriers everywhere: we give you idiots for tools, tree stumps for swords, s...
[_Reads._] To our beloved son, greeting. Add to our thoughts of you, if possible to add, but a little, and you are more than old heroes—not to bemean your genius, who might cry...
2. SCENE II.: _Evening before Thebes. The Pyramids are being built.The vague viols of evening Call all the flower clans To some abysmal swinging And tumult of deep trance; He may hear, flower of my singing, And come hither winging.