Still we hear it -- Clear, immortal, undying, -- The old sweet chant Of those that worship the sun! Pallid, perverse, diseased, The mystical rabble Gibber and twitter and weep. With a waving of leprous arms, With a beating of epicene breasts, They mutter their prayers to the night, And the moon, their odalisque. But still we hear it -- Clear, immortal, undying, -- The old sweet chant Of those that worship the sun! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YUSSOUF by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL JONAH'S SONG, FR. MOBY DICK by HERMAN MELVILLE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 34. THE DARK GLASS by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI TIPPERARY: 4. BY OUR OWN A. E. HOUSMAN by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE FOUR SEASONS by PHILIP AYRES PARTY CARD NO. 224332 by ALEXANDR ILYICH BEZYMENSKY THE WORLD'S RECORD by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE MAXIMS FOR THE OLD HOUSE: THE THRESHOLD by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |