Six solitudes he knows already— But even the sea was not lonely enough for him, On the island he could climb, on the mount he became flame, At the seventh solitude He casts a fishing-rod far o'er his head. Storm-tossed seamen! Wreckage of ancient stars Ye seas of the future! Uncompassed heavens! At all lonely ones I now throw my fishing-rod. Give answer to the flame's impatience, Let me, the fisher on high mountains, Catch my seventh, last solitude!—— FAME AND ETERNITY44 I Speak, tell me, how long wilt thou brood Upon this adverse fate of thine? Beware, lest from thy doleful mood A countenance 90 dark is brewed That men in seeing thee divine A hate more bitter than the brine.
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EDITORIAL NOTE TO POETRY
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