Classic Poem

Ah , thank whatever Gods you have,
For granting you a golden art:
For making this side of the grave,
A stage to play a double part.

Your own and other lives you live:
I have one only life, my own.
To me my Gods less kindly give
The music of a monotone.

Yet sometimes, for a little space,
Pitying my loneliness they send
To give my days a little grace,
The goodliest of their gifts, a friend.