““Between the Pedestals of Night and Morning Between red death and radiant desire With not one sound of triumph or of warning Stands the great sentry on the Bridge of Fire. O transient soul, thy thought with dreams adorning, Cast down the laurel, and unstring the lyre: the wheels of Time are turning, turning, turning, The slow stream channels deep and doth not tire. Gods on their bridge above Whispering lies and love Shall mock your passage down the sunless river Which, rolling all it streams, shall take you, king of dreams, Unthroned and unapproachable for ever To where the kings who dreamed of old Whiten in habitations monumental cold.””
