MY song shall flow unceasing as the tide, And words make their defiance to the sun; I am caparisoned in ancient pride, Dowered for battles lost or battles won. And through all fleeting days, at my right hand Waits earth's mad beauty, timelessly arrayed; And on my left pale clouds like pillars stand, Bearing their strength to keep me unafraid. For I have put my trust in passing things— In loveliness that melts before a breath, In thoughts washed shining at the mind's clear springs,— These are eternal in the face of death; And armed with these, their splendor and their truth, I shall be strong, and keep immortal youth. |