Classic Poem

Gazers at Earth who may not snatch
A moment's rest, O Sentinels,
Who watch with none to change the watch,
Is there a Rumour which foretells,

After long vigilance, relief;
And timeless ease from ageless hours;
A respite from the blaze of Life,
Deep in a shelter such as ours,

Where you may bathe your eyes in Night,
Trusting in Death's long " All is well " ?
Ah, no! For what can give respite,
And quench the light perpetual?

Our very shade which seems at rest,
Spins at the apex of its cone;
The dark in which the stars shine best,
Is by some solar radiance thrown.

Even the primordial Dark that once
Engendered light, nor growth debars,
Is phosphorescent with dead suns,
And pregnant with the dust of stars.