Pound, Ezra: Erat hora
Erat hora (English)(Ερατ χώρα)
‘Thank you, whatever comes.' And then she turned And, as the ray of sun on hanging flowers Fades when the wind hath lifted them aside, Went swiftly from me. Nay, whatever comes One hour was sunlit and the most high gods May not make boast of any better thing Than to have watched that hour as it passed.
|