Upon its breast I mark a shadow fall,
Wherein a myriad shadows toss and crawl.
Weep’st thou because their turmoil will not cease,
O passing ripple on the Lake of Peace?
I watch the toiling shadows fight and strive,
I hear the murmur of a Dream-world hive.
Why is their warfare more to thee than me,
Thou wave that risest from a boundless sea?
No shadow-battle stirs the silent breast
Of the deep waters of the Lake of Rest.