DOLMEN and menhirs in mute conclave met, Draped in old centuries, bearded by gray Time With stain of hoar-like hues, and by frost carved Into the likeness of mortality— Here stand they, lean or stoop here, sunk in turf That yesterday was dust and will to-morrow Be dust upheaved anew by the blind mole. The tides of Time have whelmed and lapsed and whelmed And lapsed, past backward reckoning; while still Mortal half puts on immortality And sense is all confused in ageless age. But what they muse on, stony frozen Gods, I can but dream;—whether they breathe rebellion Against locality and death-in-life, Whether they pine at too-quick-passing age, Or whether, seeing the nimble race of men Oaring the sea and winds, and delving earth, They covet even man's fierce and dizzy pangs, The lusts that burn him and renew his life Forever and forever, while they stand Earth-rooted, tricked by Time in ancient guise. Of this they speak not save in unknown tongues Known to each other may be but none beside. And the sun dances lightly on the sea And fleet clouds chase the sun, and early stars Follow the dusk, and the transitory moon Hangs like a white Owl over the highest Stone A moment, and then flutters after the stars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SINCERE FLATTERY OF R.B. by JAMES KENNETH STEPHEN WHEN HELEN LIVED by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS PRAYER FOR A DREAM by JOHN C. ADLER THE OUTCAST by HELEN MCCRORY ARENDELL A BERKSHIRE HOLIDAY by CLIFFORD BAX CHILD ELSIE by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE SIDNEY'S ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: CANTO QUARTO by THOMAS CAMPION |