Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE VIGIL OF THE POET, by PAUL FORT


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE VIGIL OF THE POET, by                    
First Line: Pensive, from the high esplanade I stretch my hand, that of a god
Last Line: Resurrected soul I ope to greet resuscitated france!
Subject(s): France; Poetry & Poets


Pensive, from the high esplanade I stretch my hand, that of a God, toward the
horizon's opening road in the moonlight 'neath my eyes displayed.

I cadence still-expanding space and feel unclose the heaven's blue bowl,
swelling the spirit of my race up to the measure of my soul.

No. I'm alone on guard, and France that sleeps with unperturbed breath, beneath
the moonlight's flood immense, has all the majesty of death.

I think of gods that once were proud, of all the heroes buried deep, of how the
lately-conquered sleep, of France in her funereal shroud.

The god I was has perished now. Humbly I kneel and pray for all. Why does this
peace upon me fall and this sweet hand caress my brow?

Genius of France, consoling Sprite whose veil, transparent with the light of the
month elect when buds are rife and quickening seeds are thrilled with life,

shines with the lustrous hue of hope! -- and 'neath the morning's new romance a
resurrected soul I ope to greet resuscitated France!





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