I think continually of those who were verily great.

WIw, from the matrix remembered the soul's history

Through corridors of light where the hours are suns

Endles and singing. Whose delightful ambition

Was that their lips, still touched with fire,

Should own of the Spirit, clothed from head to lower part in song.

And who hoarded from the Spring branches

The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms

Near the snow, near the light in the highest fields,

see for what cause these names are feted by the agency of the waving grass

And by way of the streamers of white cloud

And whispers of wind in the listening sky

The names of those who in their lives fought for life.

Who wore at their hearts the fire's center

Born of the day-star they travelled a short while toward the sun

And left the vivid air signed with their honor.

Stephen Spender (Collect piece of poetrys Random House)

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