  He hears the hour's low hint and springs To the chariot-side of Truth, while fast The wild car swings Through dust and cloud; And the watchful elders, prophet-proud, Give o'er his bones To the wracking stones— But he has passed! A weft of sky, and castles stare High from a wizard shore, Sun-arrowed, tower-strong; Gold parapets in air Down-pour, down-pour Sea-falls of peri song; Then earth, the dragon's lair; Cave eyes and burning breath; And the lance the Grail lords bore This day flies swift and fair, This day of the dragon's death. Put on meek age's hood? Feel but the frost within the dawn? Wrap courage in a swaddling mood? His bare throat flings All-powered nay; The world, his vast, unfingered lyre, Stirs in her thousand strings; Lit with redemptive flame Burns miracle desire, And dedicated day Is long as freedom's dream. Youth of the lance, youth of the lyre, How far, how far shalt go? Where will the halting be? Sun-courier, whose roads of fire Bridge God's delay, The hearts that know thee, ah, they know, Ageless in clay, Sole immortality! |
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