28

Myself I see, holding an hour-glass in his hand,
Deriving intimate omens from the trickling sand:
Intent on Time's device which casually contains
The world's enigma in its quietly falling grains.
Myself I see; for whom the idle moments pass
From is to was in that memento mori glass;
For whom the divination darkly seems to say,

" I am the emblem of your phantom yesterday.
I am tomorrow's journey and the eternal track
Across the desert land of life where none turn back.
I am the setting sun, the sun that rises red;
And the white moon, silvering dim cities of the dead."