Frank Oliver Call’s speaker stands among ruined shrines, mourning not only the old gods but also a sense of lost beauty and lost music in the world. The opening mood is bleak and elegiac: altars are profaned, temples lie broken, and a triumphant scoffer mocks what was once held sacred. Yet the speaker pushes back. Even if the old gods were false, he asks what the destroyer has to offer in their place. The poem then shifts toward consolation. Though the gods are gone, the sunset still lingers, moonlight still reveals its treasures, dawn still touches the darkness, and bluebirds still cross green fields. Most importantly, human hearts still long for human love. The speaker’s feeling is complicated: sorrowful for what has been lost, but quietly resilient, suggesting that a kind of sacredness survives in natural beauty and human connection. The overall tone is reflective and bittersweet.
The Old Gods — Summary
Old gods are dead; their broken shrines are lying Profaned with blood and trampled to the ground; I see lost beauty with each sunset dying, I hear lost music in each echoing sound. Old gods are dead; triumphant stands the scoffer Beside old altars where our offerings lay,-- False gods perhaps,--but what have you to offer Who batter down old temples in a day? Old gods are dead; but still the sunset lingers, The moonlight still its store of treasure yields, Dawn touches darkness with its magic fingers, And bluebirds wing their flight across green fields, The sea-tides ebb and flow, stars shine above, And human hearts still long for human love.