O ye oaks! Ye guardian genii of the broad leagues up and down! Tell us of the scenes ye witnessed or with smile or angry frown. In your tops we hear a murmur; is it thus brave deeds are sung? For the alien suppliants deign to speak in coarser human tongue. Answers not your whispered cadence; is it worship blent with sighs? Droop ye lower o'er the ruin lifted dark against the skies? Hold this truth, O fading shrine! 'tis all that's left to light thy day: 'Tis the soul that may illume e'en wasted lines of dying clay. Awful silence broods around thee, and the noonday hazes thrill With a pulse which seems a mem'ry of the life that now is still. Fare-thee-well! Such desolation seems of Time's own death a part; Leave we thee to dreams and shadows; turn we to the world's great heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ESTRANGEMENT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PEACE (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CHAMBER MUSIC: 8 by JAMES JOYCE THE DESIRE OF NATIONS by EDWIN MARKHAM SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELMER BARR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: TOM MERRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THEY PRAISE THE SUN by JOHN CROWE RANSOM |