Our revels now are ended
Naturally, she answers questions that have never been asked
Always, asks questions to which there are no answers
This mimic echoing of human curiosity is still.
Soon there will be a blanket of snow
Enough to cover all the graves in Ireland.
The landscape is never still, always
A casting off or a putting on
Rivers seek to break their banks
Insects dance, and birds sing
Frost, spring zephyrs, summer
Everything comes to its end,
Fruitful autumn harvests
The swift moon repairs the slow heaven
We are dust and shadow.
Who knows tomorrow
The gods themselves are never satiated
It is not eloquence which delivers us but grace
Restores life, chases chaste Diana out of the darkness,
Into the clear, cold sunlight of day.