[Some exiles know]

Some exiles know

they will not, cannot be recalled.

No overthrow

of tyranny

will clear the way

for their return.  Too old,

their thoughts dwell in a vanished world.

But clear, how clear

its beauty in their memory burns,

seeming so near

one step will set

them home in it,

their home—those golden shores,

flower-wooded hills, which loved them once.