HORIZON

I

Unheard-of fathoms in the deep sea,
In cool caves deep
(The spoils of battle are not for thee)
For ever sleep.

No upward vision or shining mount
Rewards thy pain.
The secret angel keepeth no count
Of thy lost gain.

On the sphynx's mouth the tale is dead,
The path grass grown.
Our sorrow shall follow where thout hast led,
Through the Unknown.

Waitest thou hidden, or quiet rest
What silence forbids?
Give us at least thy unobtained quest
And the flowered meads.