Page:Impressions- A Book of Verse.djvu/67

 WITH A FLOWER FROM CARNAC

PLUCKED this bit of yellow gorse for thee By a huge menhir where on Carnac's shore The long waves murmur dirges evermore For men dead ere the birth of history.— Here once they lived whom Time's immensity Hath quite o'erwhelmed, and blotted out their page From the world's book! On them may learned sage Descant, and poet dream, here by the sea! But none may know what were their thoughts, their lives— None e'er may know! none living or un- born!— Were these their tombs built where the strong sea strives In vain to hold the warm elusive sands? Were these hard by their altars, where forlorn They stretched to Heaven imploring empty hands?