Oh Happy Homer

The heroic stars spending themselves,

Coining their very flesh into bullets for the lost battle,

They must burn out at length like used candles;

And Mother Night will weep in her triumph, taking home her heroes.

There is the stuff for an epic poem-

This magnificent raid at the heart of darkness, this lost battle-

We don't know enough, we'll never know.

Oh happy Homer, taking the stars and the Gods for granted.

Robinson Jeffers