Down the blue night the unending columns press In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow, Now tread the far South, or lift rounds of snow Up to the white moon's hidden loveliness. Some pause in their grave wandering comradeless, And turn with profound gesture vague and slow, As who would pray good for the world, but know Their benediction empty as they bless. They say that the Dead die not, but remain Near to the rich heirs of their grief and mirth. I think they ride the calm mid-heaven, as these, In wise majestic melancholy train, And watch the moon, and the still-raging seas, And men, coming and going on the earth. The Pacific, October 1913 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SACHEM OF THE CLOUDS (A THANKSGIVING LEGEND) by ROBERT FROST BEARING LEAVES AGAIN by DAVID IGNATOW MEMORY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE PASSING OF THE EX-SLAVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO HENRY LINCOLN JOHNSON - LAWYER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON STREET-CRIES: 2. THE SHIP OF EARTH by SIDNEY LANIER |