 | Tiresias |  |
To these blank eyes the outer world is blank;
The pale blue hills afar, beneath my feet,
The happy flowers alike are blank to me.
But pastures ever rich in flowers divine,
Unfading, lustrous, of ethereal hue,
Are mine, and cheer the margin where a stream,
Brimmed with celestial light, for ever flows
Toward some great ocean washing nameless shores.
The pale blue hills afar, beneath my feet,
The happy flowers alike are blank to me.
But pastures ever rich in flowers divine,
Unfading, lustrous, of ethereal hue,
Are mine, and cheer the margin where a stream,
18
Toward some great ocean washing nameless shores.
| Tiresias | |