Stephen Vincent Benét

On the highest steeps of Space he will have his dwelling-place, In those far, terrific regions where the cold comes down like Death Gleams the red glint of his pinions, smokes the vapor of his breath. Floating downward, very clear, still …

Icarus, Icarus, though the end is piteous, Yet forever, yea, forever we shall see thee rising thus, See the first supernal glory, not the ruin hideous.

The moon, a sweeping scimitar, dipped in the stormy straits, The dawn, a crimson cataract, burst through the eastern gates, The cliffs were robed in scarlet, the sands were cinnabar, Where first two men spread wings for flight and dared …

She is all peace, all quiet, All passionate desires, the eloquent thunder Of new, glad suns, shouting aloud for joy

For ever... well... it droops the mouth. Till I Look up. There's one blue patch no smoke dares touch. Sky, clear, ineffable, alive with light, Always the same... Before, I never knew

Eternally the choking steam goes up From the black pools of seething oil...

This in my heart I keep for goad! Somewhere, in Heaven she walks that road. Somewhere... in Heaven... she walks... that... road...

Oh dear and laughing, lost to me, Hidden in grey Eternity, I shall attain, with burning feet, To you and to the mercy-seat! The ages crumble down like dust, Dark roses, deviously thrust

There was no pain when I awoke, No pain at all. Rest, like a goad, Spurred my eyes open — and light broke Upon them like a million swords: And she was there. There are no words. Heaven is for a moment's span. And ever.

I only know that there was Pain, Infinite and eternal Pain. And that I fell — and rose again.

I stumbled, slipped... and all was gone That I had gained.

I crawled. I could not speak or see Save dimly. The ice glared like fire, A long bright Hell of choking cold, And each vein was a tautened wire, Throbbing with torture — and I crawled. My hands were wounds.

Life was a storm to wander through. I took the wrong way. Good and well, At least my feet sought out not Hell!

She stood there, and at once I knew The bitter thing that I must do. There could be no surrender now; Though Sleep and Death were whispering low.

These I see, Blazing through all eternity, A fire-winged sign, a glorious tree!

Like a great word once known and lost And meaning all things.

It is not given me to trace The lovely laughter of that face

And then a light winked like an eye. . . . And very many miles away

The fight was done. Even gods tire Of fighting...

The iron ice stung like a goad, Slashing the torn shoes from my feet, And all the air was bitter sleet. And all the land was cramped with snow, Steel-strong and fierce and glimmering wan, Like pale plains of obsidian. — And yet I strove — …