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"But dream-appearing mournful fantasies --
There they stand, bringing grace that's vain.
For vain 't is, when brave things one seems to view;
The fantasy has floated off, hands through;
Gone, that appearance, -- nowise left to creep, --
On wings, the servants in the paths of sleep!"
Woes, then, in household and on hearth, are such
As these--and woes surpassing these by much.
But not these only: everywhere --
For those who from the land
Of Hellas issued in a band,
Sorrow, the heart must bear,
Sits in the home of each, conspicuous there.
Many a circumstance, at least,
Touches the very breast.
Whom any sent away, -- he knows:
And in the live man's stead,
Armour and ashes reach
The house of each.
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