Now the golden leafage is beggared. Shining through the porches of autumn, Shows the cool blue stillness of heaven. Lo, the thin-trunked grove is transcended: Carved in stone, a columned cathedral. Smoke-scrolls wind about the frail friezes; Flung above the doors is a curtain— Open-work: like nets of God's fishers That the catch has slipped through and broken, Like thy tatters, sacred and lovely, At the entrance of a white temple, Oh thou golden mendicant music! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DISMAL MOMENT PASSING by CLARENCE MAJOR TEARS IN SLEEP by LOUISE BOGAN THE HEMLOCK by EMILY DICKINSON BACCHUS by RALPH WALDO EMERSON REVELATION by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE THE POET'S SOLILOQUY by E. M. AVERILL |