IN day from some titanic past it seems
As if a thread divine of memory runs;
Born ere the Mighty One began his dreams,
    Or yet were stars and suns.
 

But here an iron will has fixed the bars;
Forgetfulness falls on earth’s myriad races:
No image of the proud and morning stars
    Looks at us from their faces.
 

Yet yearning still to reach to those dim heights,
Each dream remembered is a burning-glass,
Where through to darkness from the Light of Lights
    Its rays in splendour pass.

Added: May 12 2003 | Viewed: 1941 times | Comments (0)

Poet: George William Russell
Poem: 11. 11. Day
Volume: Collected Poems by A.E.
Year: Published/Written in 1913
Poem of the Day on:
Nov 15 2008
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