 | Romance and revery |  |
67
TWO WORLDS.
A fiery young world, in far voids of sky,
Called to an old world growing dark and chill:
“Now that you near the hour when you must die,
Tell me what mighty memories haunt you still!”
Called to an old world growing dark and chill:
“Now that you near the hour when you must die,
Tell me what mighty memories haunt you still!”
Then from the old sad world this answer fell:
“Vast peoples rose and vanished where I swing. ...
But all my poor tired soul remembers well
Are the great songs my poets used to sing!”
“Vast peoples rose and vanished where I swing. ...
But all my poor tired soul remembers well
Are the great songs my poets used to sing!”
| Romance and revery | |