 | Imaginary Sonnets |  |
62
III.
And on and on, through Scythia's whistling waste,
Alone beneath inexorable stars;
Or, lonelier still, through India's full bazaars,
Pursued by none, yet ever onward chased;
Alone beneath inexorable stars;
Or, lonelier still, through India's full bazaars,
Pursued by none, yet ever onward chased;
Or through the wreck of empires long effaced,
Whose pomp I saw, and their triumphal cars;
Or on the track of Europe's thousand wars
Swept on by routed armies in their haste.
Whose pomp I saw, and their triumphal cars;
Or on the track of Europe's thousand wars
Swept on by routed armies in their haste.
Each path of Earth, my foot, which ne'er may stop,
Treads and retreads, and yet hath but begun
Its lonely journey through the human crop;
Treads and retreads, and yet hath but begun
Its lonely journey through the human crop;
To last till Earth, exhausted, shall have spun
Her meted spin, and, like a wavering top,
Shall lurch her last, and Time shall eat the Sun.
Her meted spin, and, like a wavering top,
Shall lurch her last, and Time shall eat the Sun.
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