THROUGH the tender amaranthine domes Of angel-evenings echoing summer song, Through the black rock-tombs Of winter, and where autumn floods prolong The midnight roar and tumbling thunder, Through spring's daisy-peeping wonder, Round and beyond and over and under, I see our homes. Bloom, healing rosiness and wild-wine flowers, Or lift a vain wing in the mire, dropt leaf; Storm-spirit, coil your lightnings round mad towers; Go forth, you marching Seasons, horsemen Hours; Blow silver triumphs, Joy, and knell, grey Grief. These after-pieces will not now dispel The scene and action that was learned in hell. These charming veils a thought has strength to waft With one quick thrill aloft; and then we view Seasons and hours we better knew, Desperate budding of untimely green, Skies and soft cloud-land savagely serene, Steel or mere sleet that beat past-caring bones, Night-tempest not so loud as those long moans From low-gorged lairs, which outshine Zion's towers, Weak rags of walls, the forts of godlike powers. We went, returned, But came with that far country learned; Strange stars, and dream-like sounds, changed speech and law are ours. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HITS AND RUNS by CARL SANDBURG BACON'S EPITAPH, MADE BY HIS MAN by JOHN COTTON (1640-1699) THE RIDDLERS by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE OLD FOLKS AT HOME by STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER THE LOST CHORD by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER TWELVE SONNETS: 3. THE VALLEY ROSES by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |