The House Of Earth

O ye disconsolate and heavy-souled, That evening cometh when ye too shall learn The pangs of one who may no more return, To live again the uneven days of old. Ye too shall weary of the myrrh and gold (Seeing the gods and their great unconcern), And, as I yearn to-day, your feet shall yearn To touch that Earth which ye afar behold. Think now upon your grievous things to bear,-- Some goal unwon, some old sin's lurid stain, Your vistaed paths,--are they not fair as hope? But I between dead suns must peer, and grope Among forsaken worlds, one glimpse to gain Of my old place--the heaviest shadow there.