A hundred years I slept beneath a thorn Until the tree was root and branches of my thought, Until white petals blossomed in my crown. A thousand years I floated in a lake Until my brimful eye could hold The scattered moonlight and the burning cloud. Mine is the gaze that knows Eyebright, asphodel, and briar rose. I have seen the rainbow open, the sun close. A wind that blows about the land I have raised temples of snow, castles of sand And left them empty as a dead hand. A winged ephemerid I am born With myriad eyes and glittering wings That flames must wither or waters drown. I must live, I must die, I am the memory of all desire, I am the world's ashes, and the kindling fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PENITENTIAL PSALM: 143. DOMINE EXAUDI by THOMAS WYATT ESTHER; A YOUNG MAN'S TRAGEDY: 50 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE COMING AMERICAN by SAM WALTER FOSS AFTER THE WAR by RICHARD THOMAS LE GALLIENNE THE IVY; ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG FRIEND by BERNARD BARTON |