a connotation of infinity

sharpens the temporal splendor of this night

when souls which have forgot frivolity

in lowliness, noting the fatal flight

of worlds whereto this earth's a hurled dream

down eager avenues of lifelessness

consider for how much themselves shall gleam,

in the poised radiance of perpetualness.

When what's in velvet beyond doomed thought

is like a woman amorous to be known;

and man, whose here is alway worse than naught,

feels the tremendous yonder for his own—

on such a night the sea through her blind miles

of crumbling silence seriously smiles