Supreme with night, what high mysteriarch—

The undreamt-of god beyond the trinal noon

Of elder suns empyreal—past the moon

Circling some wild world outmost in the dark—

Lays on me this unfathomed wish to hark

What central sea with plume-plucked midnight strewn,

Plangent to what enormous plenilune

That lifts in silence, hinderless and stark?

The brazen comprehension of the waste,

The waste inclusion of the brazen sky—

These I desire, and all things wide and deep;

And, lifted past the level years, would taste

The cup of an Olympian ecstasy,

Titanic dream, and Cyclopean sleep.