I. WHEN the stern Genius, to whose hollow tramp Echo the startled chambers of the soul, Waves his inverted torch o'er that pale camp Where the archangel's final trumpets roll, I would not meet him in the chamber dim, Hushed, and pervaded with a nameless fear, When the breath flutters and the senses swim, And the dread hour is near. II. Though Love's dear arms might clasp me fondly then As if to keep the Summoner at bay, And woman's woe and the calm grief of men Hallow at last the chill, unbreathing clay -- These are Earth's fetters, and the soul would shrink, Thus bound, from Darkness and the dread Unknown, Stretching its arms from Death's eternal brink, Which it must dare alone. III. But in the awful silence of the sky, Upon some mountain summit, yet untrod, Through the blue ether would I climb, to die Afar from mortals and alone with God! To the pure keeping of the stainless air Would I resign my faint and fluttering breath, And with the rapture of an answered prayer Receive the kiss of Death. IV. Then to the elements my frame would turn; No worms should riot on my coffined clay, But the cold limbs, from that sepulchral urn, In the slow storms of ages waste away. Loud winds and thunder's diapason high Should be my requiem through the coming time. And the white summit, fading in the sky, My monument sublime. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALIEN WOMEN; SONGKHLA, THAILAND by KAREN SWENSON ADVICE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES HOMAGE TO THE BRITISH MUSEUM by WILLIAM EMPSON BOSTON COMMON: 1869 by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES WINTER: MY SECRET by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ON HIS MISTRESS, THE QUEEN OF BOHEMIA by HENRY WOTTON |