Serene, he mounts the minaret of day; Where purple spreads the world his footsteps pause. Splendors from whence he rose still flame his grey And amethystine robes to golden gauze. Priestly and pure, he stands within the curve Precipitous that fronts the chasmed west. The blowing birds that wove his hem in swerve And arabesque of jet, flicker to rest. And now his voice, a tide of silence, pours Across the desert's pallor and the palms: "Come forth to God from all your darkened doors." Who pause for prayer? Partake the sacred calms? Pass and repass the women with their jars; But faithful come those worshipers, the stars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOUNTAIN VALLEY by MALCOLM COWLEY AFTERGLOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE MIDDLETON PLACE by AMY LOWELL DOMESDAY BOOK: THE CONVENT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE PAST IS THE PRESENT (2) by MARIANNE MOORE FACADE: 24. AN OLD WOMAN LAMENTS IN SPRINGTIME by EDITH SITWELL |