Even-Star

First-born and final relic of the night, I dwell aloof in dim immensity; The grey sky sparkles with my fairy light; I mix among the dancers of the sea; Yet stoop not from the throne I must retain High o'er the silver sources of the rain. Vicissitude I know not, nor can know, Yet much discern strewed everywhere around; The ever-stirring race of men below Much do I watch, and wish I were not bound The chainless captive of this lonely spot, Where light-winged Mutability is not. I see great cities rise, which being hoar Are slowly rendered unto dust again; And roaring billows preying on the shore; And virgin isles ascending from the main; The passing wave of the perpetual river; And men depart, and man remaining ever. The upturned eyes of many a mortal maid Glass me in gathering tears, soon kissed away; Then walks she for a space, and then is laid Swelling the bosom of the quiet clay. I muse what this all-kindling Love may be, And what this Death that never comes to me.