I enter, and I see thee in the gloom Of the long aisles, O poet saturnine! And strive to make my steps keep pace with thine. The air is filled with some unknown perfume; The congregation of the dead make room For thee to pass; the votive tapers shine; Like rooks that haunt Ravenna's groves of pine The hovering echoes fly from tomb to tomb. From the confessionals I hear arise Rehearsals of forgotten tragedies, And lamentations from the crypts below; And then a voice celestial that begins With the pathetic words, "Although your sins As scarlet be," and ends with "as the snow." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GEORGE MOORE by MARIANNE MOORE A SECOND REVIEW OF THE GRAND ARMY [MAY 24, 1865] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE NEGRO SPEAKS OF RIVERS by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: RUTHERFORD MCDOWELL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE CASE OF SABRINA SIMPSON USCH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS BETWEEN WAND AND WELT by MARGARET AHO FOR A RETURN by A. A. ANDRIELLO |