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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
XXXVI
More storm than calm, less gold than gray,
Along the years our lives must tread,
Makes sad the scenes around our way,
Makes grave the heavens overhead:
For on life's storied page, behold,
Are adumbrations of the dead!
The neutral tint Time's fingers lay
Around a tale that 's never told.
Along the years our lives must tread,
Makes sad the scenes around our way,
Makes grave the heavens overhead:
For on life's storied page, behold,
Are adumbrations of the dead!
The neutral tint Time's fingers lay
Around a tale that 's never told.
Time writes with sunshine less than rain,
With starlight less than mist, the scroll—
A thousand memories of pain
To one of joy—of his own soul:
The golden hues of life occur
In his dim palimpsest, whose whole
Death scrawls with dusty lines again,
Making of all a leaden blur.
With starlight less than mist, the scroll—
A thousand memories of pain
To one of joy—of his own soul:
The golden hues of life occur
In his dim palimpsest, whose whole
Death scrawls with dusty lines again,
Making of all a leaden blur.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |