University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
Poems and dramas of George Cabot Lodge

Lodge, George Cabot (1873-1909)

expand section1. 
VOLUME I
collapse section2. 
VOLUME II
collapse section 
THE GREAT ADVENTURE
  
[dedication]
expand section1. 
I LIFE
expand section2. 
II LOVE
collapse section3. 
III DEATH
  
TRUMBULL STICKNEY OCTOBER 11TH MCMIV
 1. 
[I The House of Life has many mansions, where]
 2. 
[II “He sought, believed, dared, found and bore away]
 3. 
[III “Nothing is spared,” he said, “nothing is lost]
 4. 
[IV “That we, however least, however less]
 5. 
[V He felt the blind, lost loneliness increase]
 6. 
[VI He said: “What death leaves derelict is dead]
 7. 
[VII “We serve no God, nor in the retinue]
 8. 
[VIII I well remember how one yesterday]
 9. 
[IX “At least,” he said, “we spent with Socrates]
 10. 
[X He said: “We are the Great Adventurers,]
 11. 
[XI Above his heart the rose is red]
 12. 
[XII We knew he lived alone with loneliness]
 13. 
[XIII In silence, solitude and stern surmise]
 14. 
[XIV At last the light leaped in his patient eyes]
 15. 
[XV With life and lips he said tremendous things]
 16. 
[XVI Times were when, reeling on his eminence]
 17. 
[XVII I saw that day in his dead eyes]
 18. 
[XVIII There moved a Presence always by his side]
 19. 
[XIX Because for some tremendous cause he chose]
 20. 
[XX All thro' the night most strange it was to see]
 21. 
[XXI The stately silence, the perpetual peace]
 22. 
[XXII We said no word of all men use to say]
 23. 
[XXIII We bore the chill, persistent dread]
 24. 
XXIV DAYS
 25. 
[XXV O Memory, Lord of broken and broadcast]
 26. 
[XXVI It is not that we loved him, as in sooth]
expand section 
THE SOUL'S INHERITANCE AND OTHER POEMS
expand section 
HERAKLES

collapse section Collapse All | Expand All expand section
previous section Poems and dramas of George Cabot Lodge
next section
84

XXIV
DAYS

Still on his grave, relentless, one by one,
They fall as fell the mystic, Sibylline,
Sad leaves, and still the Meaning's secret sign
Dies undeciphered with each dying sun.
How shall the burning heart of Truth be won?
Whence shall the light of revelation shine?
When shall the mind's discernment grow divine?
Where shall the soul's immortal deeds be done?
What were the incommunicable things
Whereof his dying eyes were undismayed?
What were the words that stirred his strangling breath?
Sharply the Night's impenetrable wings
Covered his eyes, and on his lips was laid
The inveterate taciturnity of Death!
previous section Poems and dramas of George Cabot Lodge
next section