I count, beneath the shroud of night,
A thousand stars, untouched by sight,
And know, among these points of fire,
Faith, Serenity, Desire,
A calm, as legend well-believed,
And silence, still and darkly-wreathed.
I dream a time outside of time,
A moment, sketched in gentle lines:
No Past to burden human sense,
No Future, Fear, or Consequence,
No Grand Design of Fortune-graced
This sad, and soft, and silent place.
Alight, I wake, and sunward see,
My well-contented drudgery;
My life untouched by form or flight,
I plod along in gray half-light,
No curse, no blessing, or ideal....
My life is dream: The Stars are real. |
