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Aeschylus, agamemnon<br />
antistrophe 2<br />
And when the night is deep,<br />
Come visions, sweet and sad, and bearing pain<br />
Of hopings vain-<br />
Void, void and vain, for scarce the sleeping sight<br />
Has seen its old delight,<br />
When thro' the grasps of love that bid it stay<br />
It vanishes away<br />
On silent wings that roam adown the ways of sleep.<br />
Such are the sights, the sorrows fell,<br />
About our hearth-and worse, whereof I may not tell.<br />
But, all the wide town o'er,<br />
Each home that sent its master far away<br />
From Hellas' shore,<br />
Feels the keen thrill of heart, the pang of loss, to-day.<br />
For, truth to say,<br />
The touch of bitter death is manifold!<br />
Familiar was each face, and dear as life,<br />
That went unto the war,<br />
But thither, whence a warrior went of old,<br />
Doth nought return-<br />
Only a spear and sword, and ashes in an urn!<br />
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