Nov 19, 2023
{2023} ~Lḗthē 04
"About the boughs an airy nation flew, Thick as the humming bees, that hunt the golden dew; In summer's heat on tops of lilies feed, And creep within their bells, to suck the balmy seed: The winged army roams the fields around; The rivers and the rocks remurmur to the sound. Aeneas wond'ring stood, then ask'd the cause Which to the stream the crowding people draws. Then thus the sire: 'The souls that throng the flood Are those to whom, by fate, are other bodies ow'd: In Lethe's lake they long oblivion taste, Of future life secure, forgetful of the past. (...)'" -Virgil: The Aeneid
