Classic Poem

He came at last to a cadaverous land
Beneath a breathless livid sky supine,
And limping over the burnt stone and sand
Reached a sleek lake of glazed unrippling brine;
And, standing ankle-deep in brittle salt
That crusted the flat marge with prickling white,
Lifted his eyes to the grey sunless vault
And waited for the coming on of night.

But never night with black oblivious balm
Or the healing lucency of starlight stole
Across the arid sky of aching grey.
Undying, by the dead lake's stagnant calm,
Caged in uncrumbling bones, for ever his soul
Stares at the blind face of unending day.