Heraclitus Poem by William Johnson Cory

Heraclitus

Rating: 3.1


They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.
I wept, as I remembered, how often you and I
Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.

And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,
A handful of grey ashes, long long ago at rest,
Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
David Saunders 16 January 2022

I was taught; 'sweet rememberances' instead of 'pleasant voices'.

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David Saunders 16 January 2022

I was taught this at school in the late 1930's, but the penultimate line was rendered as

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