Make clear the passage to Sibylla's sight, Who with her trophy comes to crown this night; And, as herself with music shall be led, So shall she pull on with a golden thread A high vast obelisk, dedicate to Fame, Which immortality itself did frame. Raise high your voices now; like trumpets fill The room with sounds of triumph, sweet and shrill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABANDONED RANCH, BIG BEND by HAYDEN CARRUTH GOAL by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CITIES OF THE PLAIN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS BALLADE OF DEAD FRIENDS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON TWILIGHT SONG by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |