The aged stones crumble dustward,
Upreaches the forgetful grass,
The chill wind whispers of ancient lords,
In resplendent springs of the past.
Who keeps yet the watch on the tower,
What sentry can unclouded see?
For vanished in darkness devoured,
The far-gazing stone in the sea.
Oh eyes of the sun-soaring eagles,
Oh lights of the wandering stars,
No grim growing gloom your sight feebles
Tell me what see your eyes from afar?
Encloaked in the dim shadowed gloaming
The wandering wardens wend,
Remembering paths true and roaming
For glories of old they contend.
