This youth too long has heard the break 
Of waters in a land of change. 
He goes to see what suns can make 
From soil more indurate and strange. 

He cuts what holds his days together 
And shuts him in, as lock on lock: 
The arrowed vane announcing weather, 
The tripping racket of a clock; 

Seeking, I think, a light that waits 
Still as a lamp upon a shelf, -- 
A land with hills like rocky gates 
Where no sea leaps upon itself. 

But he will find that nothing dares 
To be enduring, save where, south 
Of hidden deserts, torn fire glares 
On beauty with a rusted mouth, -- 

Where something dreadful and another 
Look quietly upon each other.