Gloomy grammarians in golden gowns, Meekly you keep the mortal rendezvous, Eliciting the still sustaining pomps Of speech which are like music so profound They seem an exaltation without sound. Funest philosophers and ponderers, Their evocations are the speech of clouds. So speech of your processionals returns In the casual evocations of your tread Across the stale, mysterious seasons. These Are the music of meet resignation; these The responsive, still sustaining pomps for you To magnify, if in that drifting waste You are to be accompanied by more Than mute bare splendors of the sun and moon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALMANACH DU PRINTEMPS VIVAROIS by HAYDEN CARRUTH NOTES FOR THE FIRST LINE OF A SPANISH POEM by JAMES GALVIN THOUGHTS OF A TINY PIG by DAVID IGNATOW THE MOTHER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE SEASONS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ASPIRATIONS OF A COUNTRY LAD by GEORGE SANTAYANA |