till night. 
  And when night comes the wind sinks and the sun,
  And there is no light after, and no storm,
  But sleep and much forgetfulness of things. 
  In such wise I gat knowledge of the gods
  Years hence, and heard high sayings of one most wise,
  Eurythemis my mother, who beheld
  With eyes alive and spake with lips of these
  As one on earth disfleshed and disallied
  From breath or blood corruptible; such gifts
  Time gave her, and an equal soul to these
  And equal face to all things, thus she said. 
  But whatsoever intolerable or glad
  The swift hours weave and unweave, I go hence
  Full of mine own soul, perfect of myself,
  Toward mine and me sufficient; and what chance
  The gods cast lots for and shake out on us,
  That shall we take, and that much bear withal. 
  And now, before these gather to the hunt,
  I will go arm my son and bring him forth,
  Lest love or some man’s anger work him harm.

    Chorus.

    Before the beginning of years
      There came to the making of man
    Time, with a gift of tears,
      Grief, with a glass that ran;
    Pleasure, with pain for leaven;
      Summer, with flowers that fell;
    Remembrance fallen from heaven,
      And madness risen from hell;
    Strength without hands to smite,
      Love that endures for a breath,
    Night, the shadow of light,
      And life, the shadow of death.

    And the high gods took in hand
      Fire, and the falling of tears,
    And a measure of sliding sand
      From under the feet of the years,
    And froth and drift of the sea;
      And dust of the labouring earth;
    And bodies of things to be
      In the houses of death and of birth;
    And wrought with weeping and laughter,
      And fashioned with loathing and love,
    With life before and after
      And death beneath and above,
    For a day and a night and a morrow,
      That his strength might endure for a span
    With travail and heavy sorrow,
      The holy spirit of man.

    From the winds of the north and the south
      They gathered as unto strife;
    They breathed upon his mouth,
      They filled his body with life;
    Eyesight and speech they wrought
      For the veils of the soul therein,
    A time for labour and thought,
      A time to serve and to sin;
    They gave him light in his ways,
      And love, and a space for delight,
    And beauty and length of days,
      And night, and sleep in the night. 
    His speech is a burning fire;
      With his lips he travaileth,
    In his heart is a blind desire,
      In his eyes foreknowledge of death;
    He weaves, and is clothed with derision;
      Sows, and he shall not reap,
    His life is a watch or a vision
      Between a sleep and a sleep.