Francis William Lauderdale Adams (27 September 1862 – 4 September 1893)
To A. L. Gordon
In night-long days, in aeons
where all Time's nights are one;
where life and death sing paeans
as of Greeks and Galileans,
never begun or done;
where fate, the slow swooping condor,
comes glooming all the sky --
as you have pondered I ponder,
as you have wandered I wander,
as you have died, shall I die?
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.