‘Tis still observ’d, that Fame ne’er sings
The order, but the sum of things.
‘Tis still observ’d, that Fame ne’er sings
The order, but the sum of things.
“All souls beneath the gloom
That pass with little flames,
All these till time be run
Pass one by one
As Christs to save, and die;
What wrong one sowed,
Behold, another reaps!
Where lips awake our joy
The sad heart sleeps
Within.”
Ezra Pound | “To Our Lady of Vicarious Atonement”