Oh, no man knows Through what wild centuries Roves back the rose.

We wake and whisper awhile, But, the day gone by, Silence and sleep like fields Of amaranth lie.

Old Rover in his moss-greened house Mumbles a bone, and barks at a mouse.

His are the quiet steeps of dreamland, The waters of no-more-pain; His ram's bell rings 'neath an arch of stars, 'Rest, rest, and rest again.'