Eternal cold of silence, where each sound
Dies in its birth, and Death's pale henchmen meet
With soft Lethean traps unwary feet
Or ride with hell's white steed and slavering hound;
...
I.
The beast exultant spreads the nostril wide,
Snuffing a sickly hate-enkindling scent;
Proud of his rage, on sudden carnage bent,
...
Swags up! and yet I turn upon the way.
The yellow hill against a dapple sky,
With tufts and clumps of thorn, the bush whereby
All through the wonder-pregnant night I lay
...
Far down the reach a creeping mist
Hung dim along the mountain side;
On shadowed water, sleek and whist,
I let the lazy shallop glide.
...
Borne in the car along a crowded way,
Sun-soaked, I saw the world like shadows glide,
...
What imps are these that come with scowl and leer?
Black motes upon the morning's amber beam,
They crowd and float about each happy dream
And blow upon pure joy the taint of fear.
...
In the grey dawn I lie within my bed
Still as a frozen lake that pats no more
With murmurous delight the o'erhanging shore,
Yet grim thoughts heave obscurely in my head;
...
Hey, Toby, Toby, Toby!—Dead?
The silence is a flood
That closes, choking, overhead,
And chills the living blood
...
The cold green rocks and lapping waves
Are all my world as here I sit
With downcast eye and heart that craves
The bush and blue sky over it.
...