What sadness seen, what mourning on the Earth,
Descent to darkness, time of death and dearth!
Persephone, who gave so many fruits
Goes down to dwell with the Titanic brutes;
For there her husband, god of all the deep,
The dead, in season, does as riches reap.
And only what he sends to Earth again
Makes rich the valley, mountain, and the plain.
Demeter, mourning, does withhold the grain,
And all men would by hunger soon be slain,
Unless her daughter from the depths returned:
Life’s cycle in an image is discerned.
To all their food, the dead comes back and gives;
Then flowers bloom and man yet joyful lives.
So autumn sadness turns to joy in spring,
And birds return and with sweet voices sing.