Here the flame that was ash, shrine that was void, lost in the haunted wood, I have tended and loved, year upon year, I in the solitude Waiting, quiet and glad-eyed in the dark, knowing that once a gleam Glowed and went through the wood. Still I abode strong in a golden dream, Unrecaptured. For I, I that had faith, knew that a face would glance One day, white in the dim woods, and a voice call, and a radiance Fill the grove, and the fire suddenly leap . . . and, in the heart of it, End of labouring, you! Therefore I kept ready the altar, lit The flame, burning apart. Face of my dreams vainly in vision white Gleaming down to me, lo! hopeless I rise now. For about midnight Whispers grew through the wood suddenly, strange cries in the boughs above Grated, cries like a laugh. Silent and black then through the sacred grove Great birds flew, as a dream, troubling the leaves, passing at length. I knew Long expected and long loved, that afar, God of the dim wood, you Somewhere lay, as a child sleeping, a child suddenly reft from mirth, White and wonderful yet, white in your youth, stretched upon foreign earth, God, immortal and dead! Therefore I go; never to rest, or win Peace, and worship of you more, and the dumb wood and the shrine therein. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WIND IN A FROLIC by WILLIAM HOWITT FATHER LAND AND MOTHER TONGUE by SAMUEL LOVER THE ATLANTIDES by HENRY DAVID THOREAU MOONRISE AT SEA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ODE by ANNE CHARLOTTE LYNCH BOTTA INDISPENSABLE by BERTON BRALEY SEARCHLIGHTS by MILDRED SUTTON BRENEMAN THE LAST CRUSADER by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON |