Here, where in dim forgotten days A savage people chanted lays To long since perished gods, I stand: The sea breaks in, runs up the sand, Retreats as with a long-drawn sigh, Sweeps in again; again leaves dry The ancient beach, so old and yet So new that as the strong tides fret The island barriers in their flow The ebb-hours of each day can know A surface change. The day is dead, The sun is set, and overhead The white north stars shine keen and bright; The wind upon the sea is light And just enough to stir the deep With phosphorescent gleams and sweep The spray from salt waves as they rise: And yonder light -- is't from the skies Some meteor strange, a burning star -- Or a lamp hung upon a spar Of vessel undescribed? It gleams And rises slowly, till it seems A burning isle, an angel-throne Reset on earth, a mountain-cone Of gold new-risen from sea-caves -- Until at last above the waves, Salt with Atlantic brine, it swims A silver crescent. Now no hymns In the wild Runic speech are heard, No chant, no sacrificial word: But only moans the weary sea, And only the cold wind sings free, And where the Runic temples stood The bat flies and the owl doth brood. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY HEART IS HEAVY by SARA TEASDALE MACFLECKNOE; OR, A SATIRE UPON THE TRUE-BLUE-PROTESTANT POET by JOHN DRYDEN THE BELLS OF LYNN; HEARD AT NAHANT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE MOWER AGAINST GARDENS by ANDREW MARVELL A PENNY'S WORTH OF POESY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE PILGRIM by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |