IN day from some titanic past it seems <br />As if a thread divine of memory runs; <br />Born ere the Mighty One began his dreams, <br />Or yet were stars and suns. <br /> <br /> <br />But here an iron will has fixed the bars; <br />Forgetfulness falls on earth's myriad races: <br />No image of the proud and morning stars <br />Looks at us from their faces. <br /> <br /> <br />Yet yearning still to reach to those dim heights, <br />Each dream remembered is a burning-glass, <br />Where through to darkness from the Light of Lights <br />Its rays in splendour pass.<br /><br />George William Russell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/day-30/
