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Christopher Brennan - "The land I came thro` last was dumb with night, . ."
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The land I came thro` last was dumb with night, 
 a limbo of defeated glory, a ghost: 
 for wreck of constellations flicker`d perishing 
 scarce sustain`d in the mortuary air, 
 and on the ground and out of livid pools 
 wreck of old swords and crowns glimmer`d at whiles; 
 I seem`d at home in some old dream of kingship: 
 now it is clear grey day and the road is plain, 
 I am the wanderer of many years 
 who cannot tell if ever he was king 
 or if ever kingdoms were: I know I am 
 the wanderer of the ways of all the worlds, 
 to whom the sunshine and the rain are one 
 and one to stay or hasten, because he knows 
 no ending of the way, no home, no goal, 
 and phantom night and the grey day alike 
 withhold the heart where all my dreams and days 
 might faint in soft fire and delicious death: 
 and saying this to myself as a simple thing 
 I feel a peace fall in the heart of the winds 
 and a clear dusk settle, somewhere, far in me.
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