They tell that kings now dead once walked this path That we so often paced at eve along To the stone seat where solitude fell with dusk When our hearts were like psalters, full of silent song. From this rock might be seen, through triumphal calls, The plain suddenly abristle with iron blades, And crowds through all seasons toward the festive city Rolled like a red flood in their cavalcades. But not the gallant horsemen sun-bronzed beneath their banners, Nor the gay thunder of drums across the spring, Nor the cries of golden trumpets until the heavens tingle— Could console our weary hours like the solitude of this, The caress of the shadows that the winds intermingle, And the everlasting moment of prayer, our kiss. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE ECSTASY by HAYDEN CARRUTH CONTRA MORTEM: THE SUMMER by HAYDEN CARRUTH RESURRECTION UPDATE by JAMES GALVIN INEVITABLY (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IPPOLIT KONOVALOFF by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ON THE THREE PHILOSOPHICAL POETS by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE UNDERGRADUATE KILLED IN BATTLE; OXFORD, 1915 by GEORGE SANTAYANA |