Page:Tower of Ivory.djvu/50

34 Not as Ulysses, overwise with age, Shall we sail out beyond the westward gate Into the unknown seas. Not destinate, And weary of man's seeking, and the mage Of subtle-changing earth and that vast sky Where wonder walks, shall we sail curious To do the last adventure. Oh, not thus, Not satisfied with living, shall we die.

But we shall meet death running, with our lips Still glad of the morning; and with widening eyes Still thirsty for the light, we shall surprise The secret under that old hooded Fear, And touch that face with eager finger-tips, And find but Change, who crowns with youth the year.