 | Underglimpses (1857) |  |
170
JANUARY.
A FRAGMENT.
1.
In the Palace of the Sun,Far away, far away,
In the golden-paven city
Of the Day, bright Day,
Whose dazzling turrets rise
O'er the blue walls of the skies
Like the peaks
Of the icy Himalay
When the ray
Of the rosy sunrise breaks
From the East.
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2.
To a feastIn the Palace of the Sun
In the city of the Day
On this morn,
Twelve Pilgrims who were born
Each the brother of the other,
Of one father and one mother,
Take their way:—
But once in all the year
They are here,
In the palace of their sire,
In the banquet-hall of fire,
Round the board,
Like the twelve around the Lord
They appear:—
3.
The first is stern and old,His hands are numb and cold,
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And within
The blue channels of his veins
On his forehead and his face
You can trace,
You can feel
The dark and livid stains
Of the stagnant blood confined
And entwined,
Like wires of azure steel
Through an alabaster vase.
4.
On his breast lies frozen snow,But below
You may know
The quick blood runs red and warm
Through his form.
For there the old man wears
The sweet symbol that appears
In the desolatest hour
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When a bud is seen to blow
In its lightness and its whiteness,
Its purity and brightness,
As if four flakes of snow
Were united in one flower.
1851.
| Underglimpses (1857) | |