Rudyard Kipling

As WATCHERS couched beneath a Bantine oak,
  Hearing the dawn-wind stir,
Know that the present strength of night is broke
  Though no dawn threaten her
Till dawn's appointed hour--so Virgil died,
  Aware of change at hand, and prophesied

Change upon all the Eternal Gods had made
  And on the Gods alike--
Fated as dawn but, as the dawn, delayed
  Till the just hour should strike--

A Star new-risen above the living and dead;
  And the lost shades that were our loves restored
As lovers, and for ever. So he said;
  Having received the word...

Maecenas waits me on the Esquiline:
  Thither to-night go I....
And shall this dawn restore us, Virgil mine
  To dawn? Beneath what sky?