Behind me dips Eternity,
Before me Immortality,
Myself the term between—
Death but the drift of Eastern gray
Dissolving into dawn away
Before the West begins.
‘Tis Kingdom—afterwards—they say,
In perfect pauseless monarchy,
Whose Prince is son of none—
Himself His dateless dynasty,
Himself, Himself diversify
In duplicate divine.
‘Tis Miracle before me, then,
Then Miracle behind, between,
A crescent is the sea
With midnight to the north of her
And midnight to the south of her,
And maelstrom in the sky.
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