“I know not of the ways that lie before, The doors of dark are sealed upon my sight, Save that a splendour floods great heaven’s floor, Across the shapeless shadows of the night; And all the past grows luminous and bright: I know not of the ways that lie before, The Eternal guides me down to nature’s night.
“And, Augur, human, human to the last, Clothed on with memories glad of love and youth, Old Tama wanders to the dreamless dead; Knowing no glory greater than this earth, To sleep amid the ruins of old kings And mighty peoples who have gone before.
“Deep in the brown earth, under the flowers and grass, Beneath the boughs of some old spreading oak, Beside the washings of some mighty stream, To sleep for ever where the great hills dream; And let the maddened march of time go by, While over all broods the eternal sky, Majestic, restful, as the ages pass.”
STORM.
Black trees wind-shaken against the wild night sky, Deep in your glooms you cradle the voice of storms; While far to west and south the night blows by, With shadowy, fleeting forms.
Under the stars with turbid, sullen mood, Hid in a dream of dark the river sweeps; Where all the world by frozen field and wood, Chilled into numbness, sleeps.
Here dwell no pallid spirits of the day, But out across the icy, desolate dream, The world of night is all storm-blown one way, In a loud, gusty gleam.
Soon, soon from arctic cave and bastion strong, With elves of frost and wrinkled, sleep-eyed ghosts, Out of the north with hornings loud and long, Will come the grim storm-hosts.