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...PIED BEAUTY by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS IN THE NEOLITHIC AGE by RUDYARD KIPLING MORNING MIST by MABEL WARREN ARNOLD CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: APOLOGY TO CLEO by WILLIAM BASSE A PREPARATORY HYMNE TO THE WEEK OF MEDITACIONS UPON, & DEVOUT EXERCISE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT BESIDE THE SHORE ROAD by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |