THIS is the last oblivion of all That was so wild with fire, so hard with cold,
So desperate with purpose when the bold New earth arose from chaos with a caul Of blinding rain and steam upon the tall And arrogant young mountains, now grown old—
The ruined record by the breakers rolled Along the sea-edge as the ages crawl.
This is oblivion more still and deep
Than the last reach of the ocean floor
Where midnight waters lie in granite sleep.
Gray-feathered, acquiescent,—winds may pour
Across it, drive it on a sliding dune,—
It no more lives or wakes than does the moon.