WHEN the time for parting comes, and the day is on the wane1, And the silent evening darkens over hill and over plain, And earth holds no more sorrow, no more grief, and no more pain, Shall we weary for the battle and the strife2？
When at last the trail is ending, and the stars are growing near, And we breathe the breath of conquest, and the voices that we hear Are the great companions' voices that have hallowed year on year, Shall we know an instant's grieving as we pass？
Shall we pause a fleeting3 moment ere we grasp the eager hands, Take one last long look of wonder at the dimming of the lands, Love the earth one glowing moment ere we pass from its demands, Cull4 all beauty in its essence as we gaze？
Or with not one backward longing5 shall we leap the last abyss, Scale the highest crags glad-hearted, fearful only lest the bliss6 Of an earth-remembering instant should delay the great sun's kiss- Consuming us within the flame？
DOROTHEA LAWRENCE MANN TO IMAGINATION SUGGESTED BY MAXFIELD PARRISH'S 人工智能R CASTLES
O BEAUTEOUS boy a-dream, what visions sought Of pictures magical thy eyes unfold, What triumphs of celestial7 wonders wrought8, What marvels10 from a breath of beauty rolled！ Skyward and seaward on the clouds are scrolled11, A mystic imagery of castled thought, A thousand worlds to lose,or win and mould A radiant iridescence12 swiftly caught Of ever-changing glory, fancy-fraught.
Blue wonder of the sea and luminous13 sky, A thousand wonders in thy dreamlit face, Eyes that behold14 afar the turrets15 high Of Ilium, and the transient mortal grace Of Deirdre's sadness, all the conquering race Of Athens, eyes that saw Eden's beauty lie In passionate16 adorationvisions trace Across the tender brooding of the sigh That wrecked17 a city and made chieftains die.
Forward not backward turns the mystic shine Of those far-seeing orbs18 that track the gleam- The fleecy marvel9 of the cloud is line On line the wizard tracery of a dream. O lad, who buildest not of things that seem, Beyond what bounds of visioning pine Came that far smile, from what long-strayed sun- beam Caught thou the radiance, from what fostering vine The power to build and mould the deep design？
Knowest thou the secret that thy brush would tell, Is all the dream a bubbled splendor19 white, Beyond those castles cloud-bound, does there dwell The eternal silence of the darkor light？ Will thy hand hold the pen which shall indict20 The symboled mystery-write the final knell21 Of rainbow fancy-is the distant sight A nothingless encircled by a spell Of gleaming bubbles wrought of beauty's shell？
In vain to question, where the mystery Of Youth's short golden dream is lord and king. The eyes that farthest gaze in ecstasy22, Were never meant to paint the immortal23 thing They see, nor understand the joy they bring. The misty24 baubles25 of the sky and sea Sail on. Dream still, bright-visioned boy, and fling The glittering mantle26 of thy thoughts that flee, Weaving us evermore thy shining pageantry.
