THE SONG OF FINIS

AT the edge of All the Ages

A Knight sate on his steed,

His armor red and thin with rust

His soul from sorrow freed;

And he lifted up his visor

From a face of skin and bone,

And his horse turned head and whinnied

As the twain stood there alone.

No bird above that steep of time

Sang of a livelong quest;

No wind breathed,

Rest:

“Lone for an end!” cried Knight to steed,

Loosed an eager rein —

Charged with his challenge into space:

And quiet did quiet remain.