 | The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman |  |
APOLLO
Vainly, O burning Poets!Ye wait for his inspiration,
Even as kings of old
Stood by the oracle-gates.
Hasten back, he will say, hasten back
To your provinces far away!
There, at my own good time,
Will I send my answer to you.
Are ye not kings of song?
At last the god cometh!
The air runs over with splendor;
The fire leaps high on the altar;
Melodious thunders shake the ground.
Hark to the Delphic responses!
Hark! it is the god!
| The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman | |