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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TRANCE, by HERBERT S. GORMAN Poet's Biography
First Line: Where the east indian sits
Last Line: In cataleptic trance.
Subject(s): Trances
First Line: Where the east indian sits
Last Line: In cataleptic trance.
Subject(s): Trances
Where the East Indian sits
In cataleptic trance
The twisting hours go
Like cobras in a dance.
They shake their swollen heads
From side to side;
He sits indifferent
To time and tide.
The sun gleams coldly down
Upon the eyes
That, blank and sightless, stare
Through years and skies.
The crumbling stars drift down;
The mountains fret away;
Iron and bronze and gold
Turn brittle and decay.
Day holds the Night in fee
Till Night obliterate
Colour and scent and sound
And mortal state.
And Mystery begets
A shining place of peace,
A vague unruffled pool
Where ripples cease.
The twisting hours go
Like cobras in a dance
Where the East Indian sits
In cataleptic trance.
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