Juste parce que nous avons déchiré leurs statues vers le bas, et les avons moulées de leurs temples, pas pour un moyen de moment où les dieux sont morts. Terre d'Ionia, ils t'aiment encore,
leurs spiritueux se rappellent toujours te. Quand un matin d'août se casse sur toi une vigueur de leurs vies poignarde par votre air; et parfois une forme éthérée et jeune dans le passage le plus rapide, indistinct,
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