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DEMETER AND PERSEPHONE
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And fled by many a waste, forlorn of man,And grieved for man thro' all my grief for thee,—The jungle rooted in his shatter'd hearth,The serpent coil'd about his broken shaft,The scorpion crawling over naked skulls;—I saw the tiger in the ruin'd faneSpring from his fallen God, but trace of theeI saw not; and far on, and, following outA league of labyrinthine darkness, cameOn three gray heads beneath a gleaming rift.'Where'? and I heard one voice from all the three'We know not, for we spin the lives of men,And not of Gods, and know not why we spin!There is a Fate beyond us.' Nothing knew.
 Last as the likeness of a dying man,Without his knowledge, from him flits to warn
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