But the Sea is immortal, he knows nothing, he cannot divine Anything of Age, in his great heart he beholds thee Young as his great heart, He beholds thee ever immortally throned, a shining goddess. What shall we affirm? Isis, art thou, of the secret countenance Impenetrably veiled, thundering darkly stupendous oracles. Yet when the breath of the Sea, When the swift water sweeps up the silver arc To thy glooming towers, I with reluctant look have beheld A vision, a dream of thee, Mother. False be the vision! Lying the dream! Unlifted the solemn veil! I saw in her palace halls enthroned, yet from divinity Fallen already, a goddess, a mighty bulk Bowed in the golden chair. Deaf are her ears to the voices afar, to the tide's admonition, Dim her eyes, no longer with eagle glance Sweeping from her high seat over the spaces of Earth. With drooped eyelids she leans, passionate, eager, absorbed, Over an interminable game, clutching at counters. For these all she stakes, she gambles all, a gamester Debile, sinister, ridiculous, Monstrous Mother, pushing on the board with palsied fingers All the heritage, the honour, the goodly estate, The wealth, the achievement, the toil, the tears, the blood of her children. Darkly behind her in shadow, a shadow looming gigantic Watches, a Titan awaits, eager, superb, The last, the impotent hour. But she regards not. Away The dream!—with its long low sound as of desperate sorrow, Of sea winds that wail, with a saltness of tears Blown along her pale coasts!—Lady, the Sea salutes thee Now, as through all years, Since naked and nameless among the blanching osiers, First he found thee and crowned thee in waste dominions a queen. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EXEQUY [ON HIS WIFE] by HENRY KING (1592-1669) HE MOURNS FOR THE CHANGE THAT HAS COME UPON HIM AND BELOVED by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE SPHINX AT MOUNT AUBURN by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: MITIGATIONS by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |