 | Phantasmagoria |  |
63
The Mystic Cave.
Upon a dim and mystic shore
Opened an enigmatic cave.
That to the ocean's questioning roar
A sad æolian echo gave.
Opened an enigmatic cave.
That to the ocean's questioning roar
A sad æolian echo gave.
Thither the dumb blind millions came,
Helpless and ignorant, scorned and poor,
Weary with toil and grief and shame—
It gulfed them all, and moaned for more
Helpless and ignorant, scorned and poor,
Weary with toil and grief and shame—
It gulfed them all, and moaned for more
Then came with threats the kings of earth,
Sage, poet, hero, martyr, priest,
And questioned it. That mournful mirth,
That deep derision never ceased.
Sage, poet, hero, martyr, priest,
And questioned it. That mournful mirth,
That deep derision never ceased.
But ever and again a voice
From the inmost precinct, stern and low,
With sudden inexplicable choice
Named each by name: and he must go.
From the inmost precinct, stern and low,
With sudden inexplicable choice
Named each by name: and he must go.
And some by terror lured, or pain,
Plunged of themselves into the gloom:
But none e'er issued forth again
To tell those watchers of his doom.
Plunged of themselves into the gloom:
But none e'er issued forth again
To tell those watchers of his doom.
They went, they passed forevermore:—
And at the same dim gate of woe
We stand, upon the same dim shore,
Waiting our turn, when each must go.
And at the same dim gate of woe
We stand, upon the same dim shore,
Waiting our turn, when each must go.
May 5th, 1886.
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