Hove into their view, and all of the others,
Manifest together. This was where,
In tulip and oak shade, they pleased to meet,
To sit sometimes and say how the world went,
Mortal and immortal.
“You of the golden
Shoulders,” Hermes said, “bring dreams to one
Who lived in peace without them.”
“Lived in hate,
In loathing of those very limbs he fondled—