ON the wide level of a mountain's head (I knew not where, but 'twas some faery place), Their pinions, ostrich-like, for sails outspread, Two lovely children run an endless race,       A sister and a brother!       This far outstripp'd the other;   Yet ever runs she with reverted face,   And looks and listens for the boy behind:       For he, alas! is blind! O'er rough and smooth with even step he pass'd, And knows not whether he be first or last.