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A Tale

 This youth too long has heard the break 
Of waters in a land of change.
He goes to see what suns can make From soil more indurate and strange.
He cuts what holds his days together And shuts him in, as lock on lock: The arrowed vane announcing weather, The tripping racket of a clock; Seeking, I think, a light that waits Still as a lamp upon a shelf, -- A land with hills like rocky gates Where no sea leaps upon itself.
But he will find that nothing dares To be enduring, save where, south Of hidden deserts, torn fire glares On beauty with a rusted mouth, -- Where something dreadful and another Look quietly upon each other.

Poem by Louise Bogan
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