 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
SACER VATES.
Dumbly thou goest, with a mysteryAt heart, still striving for large utterance;
Though wide awake, yet as one in a trance:
Seëst visions; dreamest dreams; things eye
Not seen hath, nor ear caught the harmony,
Nor heart the pulses, of. Thou seëst in advance
The lightning hoofs o' the Sun-steeds, as they prance
And pace forth with new dawns and action high!
Yet is thy heart, for all this, as a tomb
Beside which watch the angels, Faith and Hope,
Waiting the dawn which shall disperse the gloom,
Through which, though joined their lights, they dimly grope.
Strange whispers, visions of the night, thence come;
Yet ne'er for thee those mystic portals ope!
| Stones from The Quarry | |