THE clouds are up, to sweep and tune That inharmonious harp, the moon; The north wind blows a harsh bassoon. An old astrologer might say, By signs, by portents whirled this way, That earth was nearing her decay. All apprehensions stir to-night With fluttering issues infinite, Conjunction, phantom, famine, blight; The woodland shakes its aged bones And shrieks; beyond, in deeper tones The ceremonial cypress groans; And I, the microcosm of all, Quake, shuddering, underneath the pall Of nature's hurrying funeral. Yes! though my sceptic brain rejects My sires' chain'd causes and effects, The nerves retain their deep defects; And still my heart leaps in my side, -- A fluctuant ark upon its tide, -- With throbs and throes unsanctified, And knows not how to brave the stir Of sounds that beckon and shout to her, Of sins that clouds and winds aver. I dare not sleep to-night, for dread Of spectral lights obscurely shed About my plum'd and shadowy bed. Faint, faint, these mildew'd chords that twang So feebly, where the music rang Deep organ-notes when Homer sang! Ah! strange to find the quivering crests Of long-laid faiths, forgotten guests, Rise up at memory's dim behests! Ah! strange to feel the soul resume Its cast-off heritage of gloom, -- The savage turning in his tomb! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TIGER, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE DEATH (1) by MAXWELL BODENHEIM 1914: 5. THE SOLDIER by RUPERT BROOKE APOLLO by THOMAS HOLLEY CHIVERS THE RAILWAY TRAIN by EMILY DICKINSON SIGNS OF THE TIMES by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HORATIUS [AT THE BRIDGE], FR. LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY |