 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
HERE IN THIS SUNSET SPLENDOR DESOLATE.
Here in this sunset splendor desolate,
As in some Country strange and sad, I stand;
A mighty sadness broods upon the land,—
The gloom of some unalterable Fate.
O Thou whose love dost make august my state,
A little longer leave in mine thy hand:
Night birds are singing, but the place is banned
By stern gods whom no prayers propitiate.
As in some Country strange and sad, I stand;
A mighty sadness broods upon the land,—
The gloom of some unalterable Fate.
O Thou whose love dost make august my state,
A little longer leave in mine thy hand:
Night birds are singing, but the place is banned
By stern gods whom no prayers propitiate.
Seeking for bliss supreme, we lost the track:
Shall we then part, and parted try to reach
A goal like that we two sought day and night,
Or shall we sit here, in the sun's low light,
And see, it may be through Death's twilight breach.
A new path to the old way leading back?
Shall we then part, and parted try to reach
A goal like that we two sought day and night,
Or shall we sit here, in the sun's low light,
And see, it may be through Death's twilight breach.
A new path to the old way leading back?
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |