And seek the rest, the deeper peace that comes
Of vast endeavour and the dust of strife.
There my calm soul shall know itself, and watch
The golden-sandalled Seasons come and go,
Still god-like in its tasks of little things;
And, woven not with grandeurs and red wars,
Wanting somewhat in gold and vermeil, shall
The Fates work out my life’s thin tapestry,
As sorrow brings me wisdom, and the pang
Of solitude, O Ares, keeps me strong!