 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
AN ALLEGORY.
There stood a lone Tomb in a lone, waste place,That Solitude of her own company
Would weary, could from shadow substance fly;
For of her veriest self all there bore trace:
Tomb might it seem of last of éxtinct Race!
On earth no footprint, Man or Beast, no cry,
Motion of wing or bird's voice in the sky;
Blank Solitude, with Sphinx-Memnonian face,
Gazed sole there, as for Ever! Thereon name,
Device, was none—'twas marble, black as night;
O'er it moved to and fro a little flame,
Dumb tongue of fire, yet most lambent-bright;
Self-fed, self-elemented, aye the same;
Promethean spark, whereat new Life to light!
| Stones from The Quarry | |