They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, <br />They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed. <br />I wept, as I remembered, how often you and I <br />Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky. <br /> <br />And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest, <br />A handful of grey ashes, long long ago at rest, <br />Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake; <br />For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.<br /><br />William Johnson Cory<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/heraclitus/
