HE sits above the clang and dust of Time, With the world's secret trembling on his lip. He asks not converse or companionship In the cold starlight where thou canst not climb. The undelivered tidings in his breast Suffer him not to rest. He sees afar the immemorable throng, And binds the scattered ages with a song. The glorious riddle of his rhythmic breath, His might, his spell, we know not what they be: We only feel, whate'er he uttereth, This savours not of death, This hath a relish of eternity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ST. JOHN'S, CAMBRIDGE; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW RECUERDO by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE DIRGE [FOR FIDELE], FR. CYMBELINE by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 98 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE HUNTER AND THE MILKMAID by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER |