HER wings are folded in the plain that lies Like a vast shield upturned to every star. She sits as silent as God's mountains are, Forever watching with calm solemn eyes The white worlds in the shadow, as they rise And pass in slow procession, and afar Dip o'er the verge of the horizon's bar Into the depths of unfamiliar skies. So, ever by this lonely watcher's gaze The race of men are filing with the rest, Stars, systems, all: Whence, whither, lie their ways? Unto what other morning in the west? She asks with mute cold lips, but ne'er betrays Her riddle, and no man has ever guessed. |