SOME prisoned moon in steep cloud-fastnesses,-- Throned queen and thralled; some dying sun whose pyre Blazed with momentous memorable fire;-- Who hath not yearned and fed his heart with these? Who, sleepless, hath not anguished to appease Tragical shadow's realm of sound and sight Conjectured in the lamentable night? ..... Lo! the soul's sphere of infinite images! What sense shall count them? Whether it forecast The rose-winged hours that flutter in the van Of Love's unquestioning unrevealed span,-- Visions of golden futures: or that last Wild pageant of the accumulated past That clangs and flashes for a drowning man. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FLAG GOES BY by HENRY HOLCOMB BENNETT MARY AND GABRIEL by RUPERT BROOKE ARS VICTRIX (IMITATED FROM THEOPHILE GAUTIER) by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON A LITTLE DUTCH GARDEN by HARRIET WHITNEY DURBIN OLD FOLKS AT HOME by STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD by THEODORE O'HARA |