Think you we slept within the Delphic bower, <br />What time our victim sought Apollo’s grace? <br />Nay, drawn into ourselves, in that deep place <br />Where good and evil meet, we bode our hour. <br />For not inexorable is our power. <br />And we are hunted of the prey we chase, <br />Soonest gain ground on them that flee apace, <br />And draw temerity from hearts that cower. <br /> <br />Shuddering we gather in the house of ruth, <br />And on the fearful turn a face of fear, <br />But they to whom the ways of doom are clear <br />Not vainly named us the Eumenides. <br />Our feet are faithful in the paths of truth, <br />And in the constant heart we house at peace.<br /><br />Edith Wharton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-eumenides/
