Nothing that is shall perish utterly, But perish only to revive again In other forms, as clouds restore in rain The exhalations of the land and sea. Men build their houses from the masonry Of ruined tombs; the passion and the pain Of hearts, that long have ceased to beat, remain To throb in hearts that are, or are to be. So from old chronicles, where sleep in dust Names that once filled the world with trumpet tones, I build this verse; and flowers of song have thrust Their roots among the loose disjointed stones, Which to this end I fashion as I must. Quickened are they that touch the Prophet's bones. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TOMORROW by FELIX LOPE DE VEGA CARPIO MY SOLITUDE by JAMES R. AGGELES SCHUBERT'S (UNFINISHED) SYMPHONY by FRANCES BARTLETT THE WANDERING JEW by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER MOONLIGHT IN SUMMER by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD |