The Moth of Time

By George Sterling

Lo! this audacious vision of the dust—
    This dream that it hath dreamt! Unresting wings,
    Too strong for Time, too frail for timeless things!
Whence all thy thirst for God, thy piteous lust
For life to be when matter's chain shall rust?
    What pact hast thou with the undying kings,
    Silence and Death? What sibyl's counsellings
Assure thee that the eternal laws are just?

Nay! all thy hopes are nothing to the Night,
    And justice but a figment of thy dream!
        Upon the waste what wide mirages glow,
With hills that shift, and palms that mock the sight,
    And cities on the desert's far extreme—
        Those veils we name, and dare to think we know!

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