The stranger in my gates-lo! that am I,
And what my land of birth I do not know,
Nor yet the hidden land to which I go.
One may be lord of many ere he die,
And tell of many sorrows in one sigh,
But know himself he shall not, nor his woe,
Nor to what sea the tears of wisdom flow;
Nor why one star is taken from the sky.
An urging is upon him evermore,
And though he bide, his soul is wanderer,
Scanning the shadows with a sense of haste-
Where fade the tracks of all who went before:
A dim and solitary traveller
On ways that end in evening and the waste.
Omnium Exeunt In Mysterium
George Sterling
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Poem topics: birth, sea, sky, star, wisdom, evening, hidden, soul, sense, stranger, waste, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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ALFREDO FERNANDEZ VICENTE: Conocí a STERLING a partir del medioeval omnia exeunt in mysterium. El dicho de la época de las sombras que precedió al siglo de las luces y la razón.
Con él visitamos nuestro lado oscuro y conquistamos la humildad.
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