Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/215

 LD and alone, sit we,
 * Caged, riddle-rid men;

Lost to Earth's "Listen!" and "See!"
 * Thought's "Wherefore?" and "When?"

Only far memories stray
 * Of a past once lovely, but now

Wasted and faded away,
 * Like green leaves from the bough.

Vast broods the silence of night,
 * The ruinous moon

Lifts on our faces her light,
 * Whence all dreaming is gone.

We speak not; trembles each head;
 * In their sockets our eyes are still;

Desire as cold as the dead;
 * Without wonder or will.

And One, with a lanthorn, draws near,
 * At clash with the moon in our eyes:

"Where art thou?" he asks: "I am here,"
 * One by one we arise.

And none lifts a hand to withhold
 * A friend from the touch of that foe:

Heart cries unto heart, "Thou art old!"
 * Yet, reluctant, we go.