At the edge of All the Ages A Knight sate on his steed, His armour red and thin with rust, His soul from sorrow freed; And he lifted up his visor From a face of skin and bone, And his horse turned head and whinnied As the twain stood there alone. No Bird above that steep of time Sang of a livelong quest; No wind breathed, Rest: 'Lone for an end!' cried Knight to steed, Loosed an eager rein -- Charged with his challenge into Space: And quiet did quiet remain. |