The Watcher

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The Watcher

From out a windy cleft there comes a gaze

Of eyes unearthly, which go to and fro

Upon the people’s tumult, for below

The nations smite each other: no amaze

Troubles their liquid rolling, or affrays

Their deep-set contemplation; steadily glow

Those ever holier eyeballs, for they grow

Liker unto the eyes of one that prays.

And if those clasped hands tremble, comes a power

As of the might of worlds, and they are holden

Blessing above us in the sunrise golden;

And they will be uplifted till that hour

Of terrible rolling which shall rise and shake

This conscious nightmare from us, and we wake.