Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along.
Thou’rt gone, th’ abyss of heaven
Hath swallowed up thy form; yet in my heart
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,
And shall not soon depart.
He who, from zone to zone
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
In the long way that I must tread alone,