Am I awake? or do I dream?
To me forever moving seem
Alike the margin and the stream.
I breathe; and lo, a whisper saith,
''Tis Life.' A silence answereth,
As if in pity, 'Nay, 'tis Death.'
Alike the Future and the Past
Proclaim, 'We are but shadows cast
Before and after, first and last.
Between us thine eternal lot
Is laid-a consecrated spot-
Whereon we gaze, but enter not.
Unpiloted-we know not how-
Unto this new-discovered Now,
We come, its guardians, as thou.'