In a long sad row the old gods come; They come and bow to me. Like candle-flames in a raftered room, Like trees in an avenue of doom, They bend in unity. And a sound comes from them, a terrible sound, Like the wind in a tamarisk grove, Or a howl from some treacherous marshy ground Where the swamp-demons move. And in that moan is the cracking of sticks Where Behemoth stalks thro' the trees; And in that moan is the flame that licks The knees of Rameses: And in that moan rocks Nineveh With her golden roofs and floors! And in that moan quakes Babylon With her columned corridors! From my little green seat of piled-up sods Like a dwarf on a churchyard mound I watch that row of bowing Gods And I hear that terrible sound. They nod and mutter; they sway and bend Like monoliths of stone, Like huge gaunt birds on a branches' end, And as they bend they moan. They shiver like monstrous skeleton leaves; They rattle like gibbets stark; They reel like ruined autumn sheaves In the stubble of the dark. Their eye-sockets are hollow and deep; Their foreheads are cliffs of doom; And they bleat at me like gigantic sheep That are herded in a tomb. And very slowly I lift my head -- And slowly I lift my hand -- And a row of horny beetles dead Lie scattered in the sand! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 8 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI OF MAIDENS' PRAISE: AN INVOCATION by SAINT ALDHELM IN MEMORY OF DOCTOR DONNE by R. B. BALLAD OF PLAGIARY by JAMES BRANCH CABELL |