They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.
I wept, as I remembered, how often you and I
Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.
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I was taught this at school in the late 1930's, but the penultimate line was rendered as
I was taught; 'sweet rememberances' instead of 'pleasant voices'.