I said: "When gold or power is their aim, The smile of beauty or the wage of shame, Men dwell in cities; to this place they fare When they would conquer an abiding fame." From the red East the sun—a solemn rite— Crowned with a flame the cross upon a height Above the dead; and then with all his strength Struck the great city all aroar with light!

II.

I know not if it was a dream. I came Unto a land where something seemed the same That I had known as 't were but yesterday, But what it was I could not rightly name. It was a strange and melancholy land. Silent and desolate. On either hand Lay waters of a sea that seemed as dead, And dead above it seemed the hills to stand, Grayed all with age, those lonely hills—ah me, How worn and weary they appeared to be! Between their feet long dusty fissures clove The plain in aimless windings to the sea. One hill there was which, parted from the rest, Stood where the eastern water curved a-west. Silent and passionless it stood. I thought I saw a scar upon its giant breast. The sun with sullen and portentous gleam Hung like a menace on the sea's extreme; Nor the dead waters, nor the far, bleak bars Of cloud were conscious of his failing beam. It was a dismal and a dreadful sight, That desert in its cold, uncanny light; No soul but I alone to mark the fear And imminence of everlasting night!