HORIZON

I

Unheard‑of fathoms in the deep sea,

        In cool caves deep

(The spoils of battle are not for thee)

        For ever sleep.

No upward vision or shining mount

        Rewards thy pain.

The secret angel keepeth no count

        Of thy lost gain.

On the sphynx's mouth the tale is dead,

        The path grass grown.

Our sorrow shall follow where thout hast led,

        Through the Unknown.

Waitest thou hidden, or quiet rest

        What silence forbids?

Give us at least thy unobtained quest

        And the flowered meads.

II

Already the sea is a whitening line

        Along my wish,

And the wind is coming shadowy and fine

        With its eerie reach

To touch my common despair and pain,

        My wonder and night,

The subtle sense of the coming rain

        And my lost delight.

The missing reason for having love

        Is quiet with these,

The secret vision, the shining grove

        And the final trees.