 | Poems |  |
IV.
How overpowering now the sense profound
Of shoreless—waveless—still Immensity!
Where now are Earth and Time—and their vain doings,
And where is Old—and New—and Past—and Present—
The Empires—and the Kingdoms—and the Glory?
Oh where is History with her restless years,
Power and Might with all their fluctuations?
The high Adventurings of old Renown—
The glorious visions of the indistinct Eld—
The illustrious things of dark Antiquity—
The ebb and flow of the great Tides of Time?
Where is the noise—the bustle—and the tumult—
The ceaseless clashing of continual Wars—
The exalted bass which follows murmuringly
The ever-rolling billows of Mankind?
The shaking thunders of the big World's march,
And the vast echoes of a thousand ages?—
Of shoreless—waveless—still Immensity!
Where now are Earth and Time—and their vain doings,
And where is Old—and New—and Past—and Present—
The Empires—and the Kingdoms—and the Glory?
Oh where is History with her restless years,
Power and Might with all their fluctuations?
The high Adventurings of old Renown—
The glorious visions of the indistinct Eld—
The illustrious things of dark Antiquity—
The ebb and flow of the great Tides of Time?
Where is the noise—the bustle—and the tumult—
The ceaseless clashing of continual Wars—
The exalted bass which follows murmuringly
The ever-rolling billows of Mankind?
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And the vast echoes of a thousand ages?—
Unheard—unknown—unseen—forgotten—lost—
Gathered, condensed, and dwindled to a spark—
All their high soundings sunk within the Deep
Of the unbounded Silence. The mute Sky
Through its far-rounding, solemn, clear, concave,
Loaded with stars, tells not of such—the void
Speaks not of them—the shadowy Inane
Knows not the fame thereof.—They are absorbed,
Lost in the hushed immense of hollow being—
Whisper-like melting from the mute Abyss,
As melts the hiss of feverish excitation
From off the surface of subsiding waters.
Gathered, condensed, and dwindled to a spark—
All their high soundings sunk within the Deep
Of the unbounded Silence. The mute Sky
Through its far-rounding, solemn, clear, concave,
Loaded with stars, tells not of such—the void
Speaks not of them—the shadowy Inane
Knows not the fame thereof.—They are absorbed,
Lost in the hushed immense of hollow being—
Whisper-like melting from the mute Abyss,
As melts the hiss of feverish excitation
From off the surface of subsiding waters.
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