THE toy no skilful fingers may repair Is dearer far in tearful childish eyes Than all remaining treasures whole and fair, For here is tragedy that beautifies. The broken doll assumes heroic guise— Is aureoled, and wears an angel's wings: The saints must die before we canonize— The broken things are the immortal things! Yea, shattered gods the heart of man ensnare; 'T is the scarred loveliness we praise and prize; To wreck and ruin fealty we swear— How near one's soul the Coliseum lies! And see, ere straining flight may scale the skies, Ere she may know her life's true wakenings, From ashes must the fabled bird arise— The broken things are the immortal things! Ruin and dust and ashes of despair— On these we build our shrines, and here our cries Of adoration and exalted prayer, Ascending like the smoke of sacrifice, Halo waste lands and homes. On dying sighs Are wafted seeds of perfect flowerings: The Christ accepted death, and He was wise— The broken things are the immortal things! L'ENVOI O Belgium! there is victory that dies, Power that undermines the thrones of kings; Fear not defeat; disaster glorifies;— The broken things are the immortal things! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE WOMAN'S GENITALS by HAYDEN CARRUTH LOVE BEING ALL ONE by ROBERT FROST FRAGMENTS WRITTEN WHILE TRAVELING...A MIDWESTERN HEAT WAVE by JAMES GALVIN BRER RABBIT, YOU'S DE CUTES' OF 'EM ALL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE GHOST OF DEACON BROWN by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |