Great mountain, swathed in blue with foamy crest Of fire, majestic as the mighty sea, Thy brother and immortal comrade close, The stars except, sole comrade fitting, equal -- Only, perhaps, as dust upon the wind Shall I behold again thy spreading might. Yet no regret is mine. I have thee in My soul, though lodgment base, where room the stars And many a tide of vestal-footed ocean. Nor waste I tears that now the Cyclops brood Is dead, and never hoarse, heroic blast Shall hurl again in white and purple yeast Odysseus and the dark-eyed mariners. Nor foe of gods nor friend thy splendor saw Than now more dark, more high majestical. Thy color of solemnity doth stain The temporal and wayward thing I house. But if, when I am sown upon the air, Another, seeing thee against the sunken sun In folds of wine-dark gauze and amethyst, Should rise to exaltation more superb Than mine, and praise with loftier flight of soul Thy splendor that to-night is all my own -- That were regret! Lend me thy purple thought, Eternal brooding vigilant, that I May counsel with my soul to rival his. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY FATHER'S FACE by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOR OUR BETTER GRACES by JAMES GALVIN SUGGESTED BY THE COVER OF A VOLUME OF KEATS'S POEMS by AMY LOWELL EARTH IS ENOUGH by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: FATHER WHIMSETT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS FROM THE AGES WITH A SMILE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DIPPOLD THE OPTICIAN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |