Pent in our narrow room we see
The passion and the pageantry,
And each in his own soul still hives
The mystery of other lives,
And claims for kin the nobler soul,
Who ran the race and the goal,
Or struck the blow and won renown,
That to all time goes ringing down.
The passion and the pageantry,
And each in his own soul still hives
The mystery of other lives,
And claims for kin the nobler soul,
Who ran the race and the goal,
Or struck the blow and won renown,
That to all time goes ringing down.
Catullus - 1866b - Poetry - Slater
