Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE OLD CAMP; WRITTEN IN A ROMAN FORTIFICATION IN BAVARIA, by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: There is a cloud before the sun Last Line: If sadness fits the past. Alternate Author Name(s): Bon Gaultier (with Theodore Martin) Subject(s): Bavaria; Camping; Life; Roman Empire; Camps; Summer Camps | ||||||||
I THERE is a cloud before the sun, The wind is hushed and still, And silently the waters run Beneath the sombre hill. The sky is dark in every place As is the earth below: Methinks it wore the self-same face Two thousand years ago. II No light is on the ancient wall, No light upon the mound; The very trees, so thick and tall, Cast gloom, not shade, around. So silent is the place and cold, So far from human ken, It hath a look that makes me old, And spectres time again. III I listen, half in thought to hear The Roman trumpet blow -- I search for glint of helm and spear Amidst the forest bough; And armour rings, and voices swell -- I hear the legion's tramp, And mark the lonely sentinel Who guards the lonely camp. IV Methinks I have no other home, No other hearth to find; For nothing save the thought of Rome Is stirring in my mind. And all that I have heard or dreamed, And all I had forgot, Are rising up, as though they seemed The household of the spot. V And all the names that Romans knew Seem just as known to me, As if I were a Roman too -- A Roman born and free: And I could rise at Caesar's name, As though it were a charm To draw sharp lightning from the tame, And brace the coward's arm. VI And yet if yonder sky were blue, And earth were sunny gay, If nature wore the witching hue That decked her yesterday -- The mound, the trench, the rampart's space Would move me nothing more Than many a sweet sequestered place That I have marked before. VII I could not feel the breezes bring Rich odours from the trees, I could not hear the linnets sing, And think on themes like these. The painted insects as they pass In swift and motley strife, The very lizard in the grass, Would scare me back to life. VIII Then is the past so gloomy now That it may never bear The open smile of nature's brow, Or meet the sunny air? I know not that -- but joy is power, However short it last; And joy befits the present hour, If sadness fits the past. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OH LOVELY ROCK by ROBINSON JEFFERS TO A WOMAN GLANCING UP FROM THE RIVER by LARRY LEVIS THE SUMMER-CANP BUS PULLS AWAY FROM THE CURB by SHARON OLDS COUNTRYSIDE CAMP by CLARENCE MAJOR AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN GREEN by LINDA PASTAN THE LIGHTS IN THE SKY ARE STARS: THE GREAT NEBULA OF ANDROMEDA by KENNETH REXROTH MORNING IN CAMP by HERBERT BASHFORD BOTHWELL: PART 4 by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |
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