World Without End

Rapt, in a senselit wood, she sat,

Among wiildflowers, dreaming that

They spoke to her in myriad hues,

Telling fragrant green-Earth news.

They spoke of Fate, of Hope in clime,

Of perfect, golden-atomed Time,

Of phoenix life: of death and rise,

And as she was still new ... and wise ...

She listened well, and learned not all

Forevers die, when Edens fall.