Art of Preserving Health, The - Part 1

I knew not whence my breath had streamed,
Nor where had hid my clay,
Until my soul stood by my side
As on my bed I lay.

It showed me Chaos and the Word,
The dust, the moving Hand,
Myself, the many and the one,
The dead, the living land.

Faintly at first I heard the sound,
Far distant, of the sea:
A rushing sound—it filled my ears,
And passéd silently.

I stood beside a dark blue shore,
Beneath a dark blue sky.
The light came from no vanished star,
The sun had not passed by.

Faintly uprist like graven mist
A wraith upon the mere,
Burned clear, and she hung movelessly,
Like a suspended spear.

O strange to see her stand so still
Amid the wallowing sea!
With lifted hand I saw her stand
And make a sign to me.
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