Down the dank, moldering roads
and cross the sinuous stream of Oceanus,
Past the White Rock and the Sun's Western Gates
and past the Land of Dreams,
Here reach the Elysian Fields:
With the pale liliaceous asphodel and poplars grow,
With its glaucous sky lit by solemque suu and sua sidera norunt,
There the souls of the heroic and the virtuous,
Make this peaceful land their perpetual home.
For in Elysium there falls not rain, nor hail, nor snow;
and the great spirits here
Enjoy an immortality of bliss,
Without any disturbance, and humiliation, and sorrow.
Elysian Fields 7/19/2006 23:51