 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
PROEM
They took him into confidence—each oak
Of the far forest: and all day he sat
Hearing of Nature from an autocrat,
An oak—so old, Dodona might have spoke
Its infant oracles through it; that, part
Of the oracular beauty of the gods,
Yet irresponsible, down in its heart
Still felt the rapture of their periods.
Of the far forest: and all day he sat
Hearing of Nature from an autocrat,
An oak—so old, Dodona might have spoke
Its infant oracles through it; that, part
Of the oracular beauty of the gods,
Yet irresponsible, down in its heart
Still felt the rapture of their periods.
They took him into confidence—the skies:
And all night long he lay beneath one star,
Hearing of God. . . . One that was chorister
At Earth's first morning; that beheld fierce eyes
Of rebel angels, and the birth of Hell;
Whom God set over Eden and o'er them,
The Two, as destiny; that did foretell
How Christ lay born at far-off Bethlehem.
And all night long he lay beneath one star,
Hearing of God. . . . One that was chorister
At Earth's first morning; that beheld fierce eyes
Of rebel angels, and the birth of Hell;
Whom God set over Eden and o'er them,
The Two, as destiny; that did foretell
How Christ lay born at far-off Bethlehem.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |