THE Sun is gone: those glorious chariot-wheels Have sunk their broadening spokes of flame, and left Thin rosy films wimpled across the West, Whose last faint tints melt slowly in the blue, As the last trembling cadence of a song Fades into silence sweeter than all sound. Now the first stars begin to tremble forth Like the first instruments of an orchestra Touched softly, one by one. -- There in the East Kindles the glory of moonrise: how its waves Break in a surf of silver on the clouds! -- White, motionless clouds, like soft and snowy wings Which the great Earth spreads, sailing round the Sun. O silent stars! that over ages past Have shone serenely as ye shine to-night, Unseal, unseal the secret that ye keep! Is it not time to tell us why we live? Through all these shadowy corridors of years (Like some gray Priest, who through the Mysteries Led the blindfolded Neophyte in fear), Time leads us blindly onward, till in wrath Tired Life would seize and throttle its stern guide, And force him tell us whither and how long. But Time gives back no answer -- only points With motionless finger to eternity, Which deepens over us, as that deep sky Darkens above me: only its vestibule Glimmers with scattered stars; and down the West A silent meteor slowly slides afar, As though, pacing the garden-walks of heaven, Some musing seraph had let fall a flower. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EVENING WIND by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT OPPORTUNITY by JOHN JAMES INGALLS RORY O'MORE; OR, ALL FOR GOOD LUCK by SAMUEL LOVER MODERN LOVE: 17 by GEORGE MEREDITH EN TOUR; A SONG SEQUENCE: 4. FOR FRANCES ANN by ALBERTA BANCROFT |