Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/129

 With snapping of chariot-poles And with straining of oars I have grazed in the race the goals, In the storm the shores; As a greave is cleft with an arrow At the joint of the knee, I have cleft through the sea-straits narrow To the heart of the sea. When air was smitten in sunder I have watched on high The ways of the stars and the thunder In the night of the sky; Where the dark brings forth light as a flower, As from lips that dissever; One abideth the space of an hour, One endureth for ever. Lo, what hath he seen or known, Of the way and the wave Unbeholden, unsailed-on, unsown, From the breast to the grave?

Or ever the stars were made, or skies, Grief was born, and the kinless night, Mother of gods without form or name. And light is born out of heaven and dies, And one day knows not another's light, But night is one, and her shape the same.