The End
After the blast of lightning from the east, The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot throne, After the drums of time have rolled and ceased And from the bronze west long retreat is blown,
Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth All death will he annul1, all tears assuage2? Or fill these void veins3 full again with youth And wash with an immortal4 water age?
When I do ask white Age, he saith not so, —— "My head hangs weighed with snow." And when I hearken to the Earth she saith My fiery5 heart sinks aching. It is death. Mine ancient scars shall not be glorified6 Nor my titanic7 tears the seas be dried."