NO echo of man's life pursues my ears; Nothing disputes this Desolation's reign; Change comes not, this dread temple to profane Where time by aeons reckons, not by years. Its patient form one crag, sole stranded, rears, Type of whate'er is destined to remain While you still host encamped on night's waste plain Keeps armed watch, a million glittering spears. Hushed are the wild and wing'd lives of the moor; The sleeping sheep nestle 'neath ruined wall, Or unhewn stones in random concourse hurled: Solitude, sleepless, listens at Fate's door; And there is built and 'stablisht over all, Tremendous silence, older than the world. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ST. FRANCIS EINSTEIN OF THE DAFFODILS (FIRST VERSION) by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS A BALLAD OF SARSFIELD; OR, THE BURSTING OF THE GUNS by AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE DITTY IN IMITATION OF THE SPANISH: ENTRE TANTO QUE L'AVRIL by EDWARD HERBERT TWENTY GOLDEN YEARS AGO by JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN OF THE REED THAT THE JEWS SET IN OUR SAVIOUR'S HAND by WILLIAM ALABASTER |