I was your Saint-Gaudens goddess, High o'er the tower stair, Topping the dawn's campanile -- Dian' of Mad'son Square. Out of a Roman arena Rigged I this later fane, Fitted my rites to a people, Posed as a weather-vane. Now comes your turbaned appraiser, Bent on a barracoon, Over the glade where Diana Drew on the three-ringed moon, Marking the walls of my midways -- Not with love's alphabet -- Scorning my bow and my arrow, Lack of a pantalet. Even a goddess of copper Cools from the hints below, Seeing the scaffolds creep upward, Hearing the girders go. Even a goddess may weary, Turn to a students' lair, Leaving Silenus to offer Farewells to Mad'son Square, Leaving a crony the duties Due to the Garden's walls, And an old-fashioned libation -- Loosed when the tower falls. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DAY: MORNING by JOHN CUNNINGHAM STEVENSON'S BIRTHDAY by KATHERINE WISE MILLER EROS TURANNOS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY IDYLLS OF THE KING: THE COMING OF ARTHUR by ALFRED TENNYSON THE MALLARDS PASS UNHARMED by LAURA FRANCES ALEXANDER |