When I say For Ever I think of the temple of Zeus,
The broken drums of the columns buried in grass;
Marble avails not, words are of little use,
It is longer than miles from Olympia to Patras.
For Ever is marble, For Ever is white and tall,
But the road I follow ends in a tangle of weeds
Where lie the drums of the columns, the stones of the wall,
Broken letters of a word that no man reads.