In night-long days, in aeons 
   where all Time's nights are one; 
where life and death sing paeans 
as of Greeks and Galileans, 
   never begun or done; 

where fate, the slow swooping condor, 
   comes glooming all the sky -- 
as you have pondered I ponder, 
as you have wandered I wander, 
   as you have died, shall I die?