Down from high silences, neighbored by moon and sun, Over eternal snows in a hurt path, endlessly begun By endless flakes of coldness feeding that still, dead life Through centuries of pain, the old ice-griffin creeps Feebly, pursued by bitter arrows of the frost That sting his aged skeleton into elusive bloom; Past the uneasy clutch of forests, gray with sleep, Stirring their ancient mourning-cloaks of gloom, Until his outstretched fingers reach the sea, Like a thing loved, in last exhaustion. But the sea makes high carnival of death -- The wide-bosomed, strong, mad sea -- Rending the shining bones for fit burial: And from those lustral rites, phantom ships gleaming Cruise silently to unknown seas, wind-driven, Fading to restless mist in some uncharted haven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WAITING IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL by CLARENCE MAJOR THE STORY OF THE ASHES AND THE FLAME by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON TO EDWARD FITZGERALD by ALFRED TENNYSON ANDROMEDA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A MODERN SAPPHO by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE GREAT BLACK CROW by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY |