I see above a crowded world a cross Of gold. It grows like some great cedar tree Upon a peak in shroud of cloud and moss, Made bare and bronzed in far antiquity. Stupendous pile! The grim Yosemite Has rent apart his granite wall, and thrown Its rugged front before us. . . . Here I see The strides of giant men in cryptic stone, And turn, and slow descend where sleep the great alone. The mighty captains have come home to rest; The brave returned to sleep amid the brave. The sentinel that stood with steely breast Before the fiery hosts of France, and gave The battle-cry that roll'd, receding wave On wave, the foeman flying back and far, Is here. How still! Yet louder now the grave Than ever-crashing Belgian battle-car Or blue and battle-shaken seas of Trafalgar. The verger stalks in stiff importance o'er The hollow, deep and strange responding stones; He stands with lifted staff unchid before The forms that once had crush'd or fashion'd thrones, And coldly points you out the coffin'd bones: He stands composed where armies could not stand A little time before. . . . The hand disowns The idle sword, and now instead the grand And golden cross makes sign and takes austere command. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FLAG GOES BY by HENRY HOLCOMB BENNETT FOURTH BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 18 by THOMAS CAMPION THE VOLUNTEER by ELBRIDGE JEFFERSON CUTLER LYDIA (1) by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE LINES TO THE MEMORY OF ANNIE WHO DIED AT MILAN, JUNE 6, 1860 by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE SEVEN SAD SONNETS: 3. THE WANDERING ONE by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS |