Eliot: A poem

by William Ellery Channing

Excerpt from A Poem
Eliot.
I. In The Cave
Where once the lynx and panther made his house,
Or the fat bear brought up his family,
Poor nurslings of the Wild, I find my place
Of shelter from the world, and man remote.
Nearly two decades of this mortal coil
Run off; my sands of life mostly run out;
And yet the everlasting voice I hear,
And never find the silence.
On these rocks,
Old as the pillars of the earth, I make
My couch, table, and seat; and the iron door
Grates on its hinges to my touch alone, -
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