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Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the world!
you, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled
upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring
the bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.
Beauty grown sad with its eternity
Made you of us, and of the dim grey sea
Our long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait,
For God has bid tem share an equal fate;
And when at last, defeated in this wars,
They have gone down under the same white stars,
we shall no longer hear the little cry
of our sad hearts, that may not live nor die.
~w.b. yeats