 | Last poems including Afterglow and Beyond the sunset |  |
17
IN ROCK CREEK CEMETERY
(SAINT GAUDENS)
Yea, we are mortal! We are but as moths
That flutter in the sunshine for an hour
And then are gone forever. What art thou,
O thou transcendent Wonder, thronèd here
In crownless majesty?—Immortal thou!
The calm of the eternal stars is thine;
The silence of the centuries gone by
And ages yet to come. Nor young, nor old,
Nor man, nor woman art thou! As the gods
Thou sittest with sealed lips, and keepest still
Thine own deep thought inviolate.
That flutter in the sunshine for an hour
And then are gone forever. What art thou,
O thou transcendent Wonder, thronèd here
In crownless majesty?—Immortal thou!
The calm of the eternal stars is thine;
The silence of the centuries gone by
And ages yet to come. Nor young, nor old,
Nor man, nor woman art thou! As the gods
Thou sittest with sealed lips, and keepest still
Thine own deep thought inviolate.
We gaze
While the dark shadows deepen, and the wind
Stirs the tall tree-tops eerily. No sound
Comes from the outer world. The place is thine,
And thine the hour, O shrouded Mystery!
Yet thou art not of us, nor of our day.
When the old gods still walked and talked with men
Didst thou not share their counsels, pour their wine?
While the dark shadows deepen, and the wind
Stirs the tall tree-tops eerily. No sound
Comes from the outer world. The place is thine,
18
Yet thou art not of us, nor of our day.
When the old gods still walked and talked with men
Didst thou not share their counsels, pour their wine?
Zeus may have loved thee, and gay Hermes oft
Flown fast and far to bring thee to his sight;
Thou mayst have sat with Abram in his tent
When the Lord-God sent angels unto him;
Or watched with Memnon when the rose of dawn
Flushed the wide desert spaces, and the air
Grew tremulous with song.
Flown fast and far to bring thee to his sight;
Thou mayst have sat with Abram in his tent
When the Lord-God sent angels unto him;
Or watched with Memnon when the rose of dawn
Flushed the wide desert spaces, and the air
Grew tremulous with song.
(But the strong sun
Sends his slant arrows through the quivering leaves
And golden radiance floods the silent place—
This holy presence-chamber. Softly now,
All unabashed and smiling unafraid,
A little child strays from its father's side,
Looks in the awesome face confidingly,
And lays one small hand on the moveless knee.
Dare we draw nearer? Come!)
Sends his slant arrows through the quivering leaves
And golden radiance floods the silent place—
This holy presence-chamber. Softly now,
All unabashed and smiling unafraid,
A little child strays from its father's side,
Looks in the awesome face confidingly,
And lays one small hand on the moveless knee.
Dare we draw nearer? Come!)
19
So—thou art—woman!
Angel thou art not, no, nor any god,
Sibyl nor priest, prophet nor patriarch.
Under thy hooded mantle I can see
Thy wavelets of soft hair, like those that lie
On a girl's forehead; and thy unlined brow,
Pregnant with thought unbreathed, betrayeth not
One of thy secrets saving this alone,—
That thou hast loved and suffered.
Angel thou art not, no, nor any god,
Sibyl nor priest, prophet nor patriarch.
Under thy hooded mantle I can see
Thy wavelets of soft hair, like those that lie
On a girl's forehead; and thy unlined brow,
Pregnant with thought unbreathed, betrayeth not
One of thy secrets saving this alone,—
That thou hast loved and suffered.
When pale stars
Are out on moonless, solitary nights,
Dost thou not walk? Dost thou not leave thy throne
To wander up and down these lonely paths
Brooding on all that was, or might have been,
For good or ill in those old years of thine;
Or, haply, on the years that never were—
Dying unshriven? Is it well to be
Immortal as thou art?
Are out on moonless, solitary nights,
Dost thou not walk? Dost thou not leave thy throne
To wander up and down these lonely paths
Brooding on all that was, or might have been,
For good or ill in those old years of thine;
Or, haply, on the years that never were—
Dying unshriven? Is it well to be
Immortal as thou art?
O nameless One,
Thou and the Sphinx are silent! Let it pass.
Thou and the Sphinx are silent! Let it pass.
| Last poems including Afterglow and Beyond the sunset | |