 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
CHARLESTON
1886
Is this the price of beauty! Fairest, thou,Of all the cities of the sunrise sea,
168
Then the dread circling tempest drove its plow
Right through thy palaces; and now, O now!
A sound of terror, and thy children flee
Into the night and death. O Deity!
Thou God of war and whirlwind, whose dark brow,
Frowning, makes tremble sea and solid land!
These are Thy creatures who to heaven cry
While hell roars 'neath them, and its portals ope;
To Thee they call,—O Thou who bidst them die,
Who hast forgotten to withhold Thy hand,—
For thou, Destroyer, art man's only Hope!
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |