What do I know? myself alone,

a gulf of uncreated night,

wherein no star may e’er be shown

save I create it in my might.

What have I done? Oh foolish word,

and foolish deed your question craves!

think ye the sleeping depths are stirr’d

tho’ tempest hound the madden’d waves?

What do I seek? I seek the word

that shall become the deed of might

whereby the sullen gulfs are stirr’d

and stars begotten on their night.