Page:The Yellow Book - 01.djvu/126

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114 Two Sonnets

II—Night on Curbar Edge, Derbyshire

<poem> No echo of man's life pursues my ears; Nothing disputes this Desolation's reign; Change comes not, this dread temple to profane, Where time by aeons reckons, not by years. Its patient form one crag, sole-stranded, rears, Type of whate er is destined to remain While yon still host encamped on Night's waste plain Keeps armed watch, a million quivering spears.

Hushed are the wild and wing d lives of the moor; The sleeping sheep nestle neath ruined wall, Or unhewn stones in random concourse hurled: Solitude, sleepless, listens at Fate s door; And there is built and 'stablisht over all Tremendous Silence, older than the world.