The Bridge of Fire

Between the Pedestals of Night and MorningBetween red death and radiant desireWith not one sound of triumph or of warningStands the great sentry on the Bridge of Fire.

O transient soul, thy thought with dreams adorning,Cast down the laurel, and unstring the lyre:the wheels of Time are turning, turning, turning,The slow stream channels deep and doth not tire.

Gods on their bridge aboveWhispering lies and loveShall mock your passage down the sunless riverWhich, rolling all it streams,shall take you, king of dreams,Unthroned and unapproachable for everTo where the kings who dreamed of oldWhiten in habitations monumental cold.