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THE GARDEN OF THE GODS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Beneath the rocky peak that hides
Last Line: His voice, nor be afraid.
Subject(s): Egypt; Gardens & Gardening; Nature


BENEATH the rocky peak that hides
In clouds its snow-flecked crest,
Within these crimson crags abides
An Orient in the West.

These tints of flame, these myriad dyes,
This Eastern desert calm,
Should catch the gleam of Syrian skies,
Or shade of Egypt's palm.

As if to bar the dawn's first light
These ruby gates are hung—
As if from Sinai's frowning height
These riven tablets flung.

But not the Orient's drowsy gaze—
Young Empire's opening lids
Greet these strange shapes of earlier days
Than Sphinx or pyramids.

Here the New West its wealth unlocks,
And tears the veil aside
Which hid the mystic glades and rocks
The Redmen deified.

This greensward, girt with tongues of flame,
With spectral pillars strewn,
Not strangely did the savage name
A haunt of gods unknown.

Hard by, the gentle Manitou
His healing fountains poured,
Blood red against the cloudless blue
These storm-tossed Titans soared.

Not carved by art or man's device,
Nor shaped by human hand,
These altars, meet for sacrifice,
This temple, vast and grand.

With torrents wild and tempest blast
And fierce volcanic fires,
In secret moulds has Nature cast
These monoliths and spires.

Their shadows linger where we tread,
Their beauty fills the place—
A broken shrine—its votaries fled,
A spurned and vanished race.

Untouched by Time the garden gleams,
Unplucked the wild flower shines;
And the scarred summit's rifted seams
Are bright with glistening pines.

And still the guileless heart that waits
At Nature's feet may find
Within the rosy, sunlit gates,
A hidden glory shrined:

His presence feel to whom, in fear,
Untaught, the savage prayed,
And listening in the garden, hear
His voice, nor be afraid.





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