Classic Poem

Where star-cold and the dread of space
in icy silence bind the main
I feel but vastness on my face,
I sit, a mere incurious brain,

under some outcast satellite,
some Thule of the universe,
upon the utter verge of night
frozen by some forgotten curse.

The ways are hidden from mine eyes
that brought me to this ghastly shore:
no embers in their depths arise
of suns I may have known of yore.

Somewhere I dream of tremulous flowers
and meadows fervent with appeal
far among fever'd human hours
whose pulses here I never feel:

that on my careless name afar
a voice is calling ever again
beneath some other wounded star
removed for ever from my ken:

vain fictions! silence fills my ear,
the deep my gaze: I reck of nought,
as I have sat for ages here,
concentred in my brooding thought.