The holy lamps of Evening shine br Sheer in the West — the air is still — br As I sit with this heart of mine br At the foot of Parnassus' hill. br Through my life's day I've reached to this — br To see where the immortals trod, br Winding up the dark height, I wis, br Till they came on the light of God. br Ah! I, a pilgrim with tired feet, br Have touched the verge of their renown, br As I look up on Homer's seat br And know the bards may not come down.