Olympus is deserted . . . time has fled . . .
You know this not and still your golden head
Keep looking after the empty chariot.
And when it vanishes beyond the mount,
You droop your head with yearning, longing, grief.
O Clythia, and thus you gaze for ever
Over each garden wall and leafy hedge
That winds around the huts of railroad guards;
A reminder of past times and vanished men,
Still rises high the symbol of that love
That outlives Men, Eternities and Gods
And mutely speaks about its bitter grief.
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