India

SILENT amidst unbroken silence deepOf dateless years, in loneliness supreme,She pondered patiently one mighty theme,And let the hours, uncounted, by her creep.The motionless Himalayas, the broad sweepOf glacial cataracts, great Ganges' stream—All these to her were but as things that seem,Doomed all to pass, like phantoms viewed in sleep

Her history? She has none—scarce a name.The life she lived is lost in the profoundOf time, which she despised; but nothing marsThe memory that, single, gives her fame—She dreamed eternal dreams, and from the groundStill raised her yearning vision to the stars.