Is the first little drift
In the long dreary dance
We shall dance by and by.
In the long dreary dance
We shall dance by and by.
Are all lost? Will we lie
Effortless, prone
On the shapes of the sky?
Will we crumble with stone
Scatter with hail,
In the wind that goes on,
Past nothingness blown,
To column the pale
Pearl edges of cloud,—
Bellow aloud,
And shatter and batter and tear
The colorless air.
Effortless, prone
On the shapes of the sky?
Will we crumble with stone
Scatter with hail,
In the wind that goes on,
Past nothingness blown,
To column the pale
Pearl edges of cloud,—
Bellow aloud,
And shatter and batter and tear
The colorless air.
Past stars, the last sun,
I was witness of one
Pale universe, crossed
With little sparks, poured
Past sunlight's great sword,
On nothingness, lost. . . .
—Saw and was lost.
I was witness of one
Pale universe, crossed
With little sparks, poured
Past sunlight's great sword,
On nothingness, lost. . . .
—Saw and was lost.
For this, for sheer sight,
For this I went far,
Went out with the light
Of an opening star,
And saw peering, where
Turned circles of air,
The billowy air,
The wide, wide colorless sky.
For this I went far,
Went out with the light
Of an opening star,
And saw peering, where
Turned circles of air,
The billowy air,
The wide, wide colorless sky.
