He Bids His Beloved Be at Peace

I HEAR the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake

Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering white;

The North unfolds above them clinging, creeping night

The East her hidden joy before the morning break

The West weeps in pale dew and sighs passing away

The South is pouring down roses of crimson fire:

O vanity of Sleep, Hope, Dream, endless Desire

The Horses of Disaster plunge in the heavy clay: