Chapter_332

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Notes poured thick and fast through the thin-beaten bronze and the reeds upspringing

By the burg of the Graces, the city of fair dance-lawns in the close

Of the Nymph of Kephisus, true witnesses they of the dance soft-swinging.

If bliss among mortals there be, ’tis not won but with travail-throes.

Yet a God may accomplish it even to-day⁠—but there is no fleeing

That which of Fate is foredoomed: but surely a time shall be

When a Power that smites with a stroke all-sudden, past man’s foreseeing,

Shall grant thee a boon unhoped for, yet hold back another from thee.