Classic Poem

The half-gods go; the centaurs, too.
The tarnished halos hang askew.
The startled hoof-beats, halted, hide
Upon a cross-scarred mountain-side,
Where trampled lovers all night through
Seek brides in wreaths of maiden's rue.
These, too, shall pass. A cooling dew
Has laid the ghosts of those who died—
The half-gods go.

O seers, whose glow of vision blew
The haunted mists away, and you,
Unwedded elegists who cried
For gay young saviors crucified,
They rest beneath a dream come true:
The half-gods go.