The silent music that no strange note jars,

Crowned not with gentler hand the years that glory

Crowned, but could hide not all the spiritual scars

Time writes on the inward strengths of warriors hoary

With much long warfare, and with gradual bars

Blindly pent in: but these, being transitory,

Broke, and the power came back that passion mars:

And at the lovely last

Above all anguish past

Before his own the sightless eyes like stars

Arose that watched arise

Like stars in other skies

Above the strife of ships and hurtling cars

The Dioscurian songs divine

That lighten all the world with lightning of their line.

49.

He sang the last of Homer, having sung

The last of his Ulysses. Bright and wide

For him time's dark strait ways, like clouds that clung

About the day-star, doubtful to divide,

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