II
Now, as I hear upon the caverned night
The ocean’s ceaseless and stupendous dirge,
And one by one the stars approach its verge,
The deep seems all one prayer, and the light
Of farthest suns but questions for the sight
Of men who yet may test the Dark, to urge
Life’s portent from the starlight and the surge,
And read the ancient Mystery aright.
Do blinded powers from their darkness seek,
Thro human sight, that secret to attain?
From fonts how distant is the spirit fed?
And who are we? And is it we who speak
The Why we utter to the night of pain,
The Whither to the unresponding dead?