Thought travels past thee with intenser glow

Thought travels past thee with intenser glow,
And nobler visions burn upon thine eye,
Than other souls e'er knew of, or can know;
Massing delicious thought, and fancies high,
From hour to hour, thy spirit teems with joy,
Nor seldom with unrest; for, when the mind
O'er many themes keeps survey unconfined,
Death will be one; — 'tis surely sad to die!
Placed at the limit of all mortal being,
The mute unquestionable shadow stands,
Whose simple mandate binds the giant's hands
Helpless, and seals the keenest eye from seeing!
We own his power, but know not whence he came;
We call him Death — he telleth not his name!