FROM the rim of the world to the zenith

Is a chasm-roof of cloud '

(What shape in this gloom-built sepulchre

Is stretched in a shroud ?)

Storm-drift like vampires crowding

All earth kindred note—

But different guises of one Silence

(Is it terror seized their throat ?)

Not one star-ship left floating

And the moon-beacon dowsed :

Shall the Guardians of earth, so sleep-enchanted,

Be ever roused ?