Red, in what maze of indecisive war, <br />Sought I thy dooming beauty in the past? <br />For as a light from firmaments o'ercast, <br />Or pharos high on Death's forgotten shore, <br />Thou flamest on my soul for evermore. <br />Thy burning eyes unsearchable outlast <br />All suns and furies of the cosmic Vast— <br />The stars supreme that Night to Godhood bore. <br /> <br />Thou art as Morning in her house of gold, <br />When mute, dethroned, unhappy Night hath fled <br />To refuge with the ocean grey and old, <br />Companioned by the vassal stars in flight, <br />And rout of armies panoplied in red. <br />The rest are shadows—thou indeed art Light.<br /><br />George Sterling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-ideal-3/
