At the edge of All the Ages 
A Knight sate on his steed, 
His armor red and thin with rust 
His soul from sorrow freed; 
And he lifted up his visor 
From a face of skin and bone, 
And his horse turned head and whinnied 
As the twain stood there alone. 

No bird above that steep of time 
Sang of a livelong quest; 
No wind breathed, 
Rest: 
"Lone for an end!" cried Knight to steed, 
Loosed an eager rein-- 
Charged with his challenge into space: 
And quiet did quiet remain.