Down from high silences, neighbored by moon and sun, Over eternal snows in a hurt path, endlessly begun By endless flakes of coldness feeding that still, dead life Through centuries of pain, the old ice-griffin creeps Feebly, pursued by bitter arrows of the frost That sting his aged skeleton into elusive bloom; Past the uneasy clutch of forests, gray with sleep, Stirring their ancient mourning-cloaks of gloom, Until his outstretched fingers reach the sea, Like a thing loved, in last exhaustion. But the sea makes high carnival of death -- The wide-bosomed, strong, mad sea -- Rending the shining bones for fit burial: And from those lustral rites, phantom ships gleaming Cruise silently to unknown seas, wind-driven, Fading to restless mist in some uncharted haven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A FRIEND IN THE MAKING by MARIANNE MOORE JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBURG by FRANCIS BRET HARTE A SONG OF PANAMA by ALFRED DAMON RUNYON TO HIS LATE MAJESTY, CONCERNING..TRUE FORM OF ENGLISH POETRY by JOHN BEAUMONT MY WINDOW by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN HOME, SWEET HOME WITH VARIATIONS: 4. AUSTIN DOBSON by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER |