 | Poems by James Rhoades |  |
140
XXVI.
[There is a peak that soars in silent air]
There is a peak that soars in silent airSilent, above the mountains, crown'd with cloud,
Disrobed of sunrise, and of sunset bare—
Upon whose neck the heav'ns are darkly bow'd:
Far under chafe the waves of memory loud,
Driving Man's feet to his last refuge there—
Memory, whose stream, for ever flowing and fed,
Fills the long desert and the drouth of Time
With murmurs of the eternal watershed—
Then, slowly swoll'n to a pursuing flood,
Deepens from solitude to solitude:
But not the clamour of all her waves can climb
To that calm refuge whither all men press—
The silent forehead of Forgetfulness.
| Poems by James Rhoades | |