A BALLAD OF BEDLAM
Out from the windswept hollows of the Tomb
Into the Night,—
Impenetrable gloom
Folding me in from sound and sense and sight;
No Light,
Save from that leprous orb men call the Moon,
Whose rune
Spells Death and Madness :
Like to a blinded babe from out the womb,
Like a dishevelled ghost before the tomb,
I wandered, seeking for my Self, the boom
Of ANCIENT DAYS was on me.
Not a star
Swam in the heavens,—but aloft, afar,
One Meteor
Rolled like a great gold goblet through the sky,
Spilling strange dreams.
Strange dreams that ever flow, yet flow amiss
The while a slow voice whispers : “‘ This, perchance then ruts!”
Yet never comes the right one.
Time is ended.
Time.and Eternity with Fate have blended
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