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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
DOUBT, by FERNAND GREGH Poet's Biography
First Line: Upon the topmost branches dies
Last Line: Thee who, perhaps, art not at all.
Subject(s): Doubt; Skepticism
First Line: Upon the topmost branches dies
Last Line: Thee who, perhaps, art not at all.
Subject(s): Doubt; Skepticism
UPON the topmost branches dies
A last ray of the setting sun;
A glimmer of strange gilding lies
Upon the leaves' vermilion.
From the pale sky the colours fade,
'Tis grey even as grey waters are;
There glide like sudden shafts of shade
The living wings of birds afar.
From all things comes a charm so deep,
So sweet and glad, so void of strife;
Calm as the peacefulness of sleep
Spreads the divinely cosmic life.
The sounds of the far city roll
On fitful winds to my retreat. . . .
Why falls there sudden on my soul
A feeling beyond speaking sweet?
Dear God, how all the sense of doom
Vanishes in the face of things!
How one is like poor men to whom
Some chance a day of feasting brings!
How one adores in childlike mood,
And finds Thee where the shadows fall,
Here in life's holy amplitude,
Thee who, perhaps, art not at all.
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