Silent and moveless ever stood the three; No change came o'er their faces, as his hand Was stretched aloft unto the sacred tree; Nor shrank they aught aback, though he did stand So close that tresses of their bright hair, fanned By the sweet garden breeze, lay light on him, And his gold fell brushed by them breast and limb. He drew adown the wind-stirred bough, and took The apples thence; then let it spring away, And from his brow the dark hair backward shook, And said: "O sweet, O fair, and shall this day A curse upon my life henceforward lay-- This day alone? Methinks of coming life Somewhat I know, with all its loss and strife. "But this I know, at least: the world shall wend Upon its way, and, gathering joy and grief And deeds done, bear them with it to the end; So shall it, though I lie as last year's leaf Lies 'neath a summer tree, at least receive My life gone by, and store it, with the gain That men alive call striving, wrong, and pain. "So for my part I rather bless than curse, And bless this fateful land; good be with it; Nor for this deadly thing's death is it worse, Nor for the lack of gold; still shall ye sit Watching the swallow o'er the daisies flit; Still shall your wandering limbs ere day is done Make dawn desired by the sinking sun. "And now, behold! in memory of all this Take ye this girdle that shall waste and fade As fadeth not your fairness and your bliss, That when hereafter 'mid the blossoms laid Ye talk of days and men now nothing made, Ye may remember how the Theban man, The son of Jove, came o'er the waters wan." Their faces changed not aught for all they heard; As though all things now fully told out were, They gazed upon him without any word: Ah! craving kindness, hope, or loving care, Their fairness scarcely could have made more fair, As with the apples folded in his fell He went, to do more deeds for folk to tell. Now as the girdle on the ground was cast Those fellows turned and hurried toward the door, And as across its broken leaves they passed The old man saw they not, e'en as before; But an unearthed blind mole bewildered sore Was wandering there in fruitless, aimless wise, That got small heed from their full-sated eyes. Swift gat they to their anxious folk; nor had More time than just to say, "Be of good cheer, For in our own land may we yet be glad," When they beheld the guests a-drawing near; And much bewildered the two fellows were To see the old man, and must even deem That they should see things stranger than a dream. But when they were aboard the elder cried, "Up sails, my masters, fair now is the wind; Nor good it is too long here to abide, Lest what ye may not loose your souls should bind." And as he spake, the tall trees left behind Stirred with the rising land-wind, and the crew, Joyous thereat, the hawsers shipward drew.