I cried to them in the twilight, in the shadowy places. They are robed in a blinding light, but I have not seen their faces. Their music is loud and sweet To the beat of their glancing feet. They are light through a prism glancing, in the dance of their moods and graces. I cried to them from the summit where the wind was laughter. I saw them against the sunset, ere they fled to the days hereafter. Their music is sweet and long Like a thin-drawn note of song. I followed them with my soul, but my feet might not follow after. I cried to them at the morn, when my pulses beat to a tabor. I cried to them in the noon, in the heat and sweat of my labor. In my cheerless night I cried With my dead that lay beside, When my voice was the hiss of a sword, and my grief as the bite of a sabre. But they will not stop to speak nor to whisper of times or places. They mock before -- still before -- when the eager thought out-races. And ever the throb of cheers Faint-blown through a mist of tears! They are robed now in light, now in night -- but I have not seen their faces! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CINQUAIN: THE WARNING by ADELAIDE CRAPSEY THE ROSE AND THORN by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE ECHO [OR, ECHOES] by THOMAS MOORE A CHARACTER OF SARAH HALLOWELL VAUGHAN by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD TO LOVE IS TO BE BORN ANEW by MARION LOUISE BLISS IRRECONCILIATION by FRANCES BROWN (20TH CENTURY) |