Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/276

Rh One day the song that drifts upon the wind I shall not hear; Nor shall the rosy shoots to eyes grown blind Again appear.

Deaf, in the dark, I shall arise and throw From off my soul The withered world with all its joy and woe, That was my goal.

I shall arise, and like a shooting star Slip from my place; So lingering see the old world from afar Revolve in space.

And know more things than all the wise may know Till all be done; Till One shall come who, breathing on the stars, Blows out the sun.