Page:The poems of Robert W. Sterling, 1916.djvu/27

 THE BURIAL OF SOPHOCLES

hills that wave your olives to the sun,

Who but an hour ago did flaming rise

Over the tombs of hidden Marathon

And gave you back your shining jewelleries

What meaning dear can the dull eyes of grief

Trace in your moving groves and wizard streams?—

Have ye a knowledge of our troubled quest,

The lamentation brief,

The grey road and the haunting twilight dreams,

And the lov'd burden laid this morn to rest?

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