Then, pale and full of trouble, Psyche went Bearing the casket, and her footsteps bent To Lacedæmon, and thence found her way To Tænarus, and there the golden day For that dark cavern did she leave behind; Then, going boldly through it, did she find The shadowy meads which that wide way ran through, Under a seeming sky 'twixt grey and blue; No wind blew there, there was no bird or tree, Or beast, and dim grey flowers she did but see That never faded in that changeless place, And if she had but seen a living face Most strange and bright she would have thought it there, Or if her own face, troubled yet so fair, The still pools by the road-side could have shown The dimness of that place she might have known; But their dull surface cast no image back, For all but dreams of light that land did lack. So on she passed, still noting every thing, Nor yet had she forgotten there to bring The honey-cakes and money: in a while She saw those shadows striving hard to pile The bales upon the ass, and heard them call, "O woman, help us! for our skill is small And we are feeble in this place indeed;" But swiftly did she pass, nor gave them heed, Though after her from far their cries they sent. Then a long way adown that road she went, Not seeing aught, till, as the Shade had said, She came upon three women in a shed Busily weaving, who cried, "Daughter, leave The beaten road a while, and as we weave Fill thou our shuttles with these endless threads, For here our eyes are sleepy, and our heads Are feeble in this miserable place." But for their words she did but mend her pace, Although her heart beat quick as she passed by.