Day to day makes answer, first to last, and life to death; but I, Born for death's sake, die for life's sake, if indeed this be to die, This my doom that seals me deathless till the springs of time run dry. CHORUS. Children shalt thou bear to memory, that to man shalt bring forth none; Yea, the lordliest that lift eyes and hearts and songs to meet the sun, Names to fire men's ears like music till the round world's race be run. PRAXITHEA. I thy mother, named of Gods that wreak revenge and brand with blame, Now for thy love shall be loved as thou, and famous with thy fame, While this city's name on earth shall be for earth her mightiest name. CHTHONIA. That I may give this poor girl's blood of mine 890 Scarce yet sun-warmed with summer, this thin life Still green with flowerless growth of seedling days, To build again my city; that no drop Fallen of these innocent veins on the cold ground But shall help knit the joints of her firm walls To knead the stones together, and make sure The band about her maiden girdlestead Once fastened, and of all men's violent hands Inviolable for ever; these to me Were no such gifts as crave no thanksgiving, 900 If with one blow dividing the sheer life I might make end, and one pang wind up all And seal mine eyes from sorrow; for such end The Gods give none they love not; but my heart, That leaps up lightened of all sloth or fear To take the sword's point, yet with one thought's load Flags, and falls back, broken of wing, that halts Maimed in mid flight for thy sake and borne down, Mother, that in the places where I played An arm's length from thy bosom and no more 910 Shalt find me never, nor thine eye wax glad To mix with mine its eyesight and for love Laugh without word, filled with sweet light, and speak Divine dumb things of the inward spirit and heart, Moved silently; nor hand or lip again Touch hand or lip of either, but for mine Shall thine meet only shadows of swift night, Dreams and dead thoughts of dead things; and the bed Thou strewedst, a sterile place for all time, strewn For my sleep only, with its void sad sheets 920 Shall vex thee, and the unfruitful coverlid For empty days reproach me dead, that leave No profit of my body, but am gone As one not worth being born to bear no seed, A sapless stock and branchless; yet thy womb Shall want not honour of me, that brought forth For all this people freedom, and for earth From the unborn city born out of my blood To light the face of all men evermore Glory; but lay thou this to thy great heart 930 Whereunder in the dark of birth conceived