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It seems to me that I have lived alone—

Alone, as one that liveth in a dream:

As light on coldest marble, or the gleam

Of moons eternal on a land of stone,

The dawns have been to me. I have but known

The silence of a frozen land extreme—

A sole attending silence, all supreme

As is the sea’s enormous monotone.

Upon the icy desert of my days,

No bright mirages are, but iron rays

Of dawn relentless, and the bitter light

Of all-revealing noon.**** Alone, I crave

The friendly clasp of finite arms, to save

My spirit from the ravening Infinite.