The poem
His headstrong thoughts that once in eager strife Leapt sure from eye to brain and back to eye, Weaving unconscious tapestries of life, Are now thrust inward, dungeoned from the sky. And he who has watched his world and loved it all, Starless and old and blind, a sight for pity, With feeble steps and fingers on the wall, Gropes with his staff along the rumbling city.