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.
One sunset when the skies were deepest red,
As if they blushed for all the human sins,
I saw her gather daffodils, and sighed.
For she was sweeter far than those poor flowers
And all the flowers that grace this universe.
And in my dream I saw a crown descend
From out the firmament and drop to earth.
It fell beside a brook whose gleaming drops
Shone like the diamonds in the sable night.
And I, the humblest in the realm of men.
Stooped low and placed it on her bonny head.
Only until this cigarette is ended,
A little moment at the end of all,
While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,
And in the firelight to a lance extended,
Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended,
The broken shadow dances on the wall,
I will permit my memory to recall
The vision of you, by all my dreams attended.
And then adieu,--farewell!--the dream is done.
Yours is a face of which I can forget
The color and the features, every one,
The words not ever, and the smiles not yet;
But in your day this moment is the sun
Upon a hill, after the sun has set.
Steps of rose
On rosier steps;
Thus, evening
Builds her staircase
Between sunset
And the infinite roof of space.
So our fancies
May fold their wings,
And walk on gleams
Of unending purple and pink,
Up to the blue pool . . .
And drink from its starry rim.
The cloud-ships afire in the west;
Crimson, the surface of the lake;
The sun-brush paints the forest-canvas
In gold and green and red;
While the breeze-child turns the leaves of the trees
In the book of sunset-images for twilight dreams.
As the breeze falls asleep,
The brush of sunset
Draws the rosy cloud-scape
On the canvas of the sky;
The blue hills in repose
Listen to the pearl lullaby of the mist.
A song of dimming light, this,
And dance of shadows with silver feet,
For the joy of one shy star-maid
Seeking hiding from the moon
Behind the emerald screen of the sea.
Coral-music, the sunset writes on the scroll of the sea;
Gold strings are strung in the harp of the sky;
Cloud-fingers, playing on them,
Make noiseless gossamer-melody;
As the amber-draped moon-maid
Trips from the sea to the Heavens
Dancing the measure of evening worship.
Between the rose garden
And the sunset,
I sought my beloved.
Between the dawn's blush
And night's star;
Between dream's arm and
Sleep's embrace,
I sought my beloved,
Between the rose garden and the sunset.
I LOOK at the swaling sunset
And wish I could go alsoThrough the red doors beyond the black-purple bar.
I wish that I could goThrough the red doors where I could put off
My shame like shoes in the porch,
My pain like garments,
And leave my flesh discarded lying
Like luggage of some departed traveller
Gone one knows not where.
Then I would turn round,And seeing my cast-off body lying like lumber,
I would laugh with joy.
I am for sleeping and forgetting
All that has gone before;
I am for lying still and letting
Who will beat at my door;
I would my life’s cold sun were setting
To rise for me no more.
Sweet life! how lovely to be here
And feel the soft sea-laden breeze
Strike my flushed face, the spruce’s fair
Free limbs to see, the lesser trees’
Bare hands to touch, the sparrow’s cheep
To heed, and watch his nimble flight
Above the short brown grass asleep.
Love glorious in his friendly might,
Music that every heart could bless,
And thoughts of life serene, divine,
Beyond my power to express,
Crowd round this lifted heart of mine!
But oh! to leave this paradise
For the city’s dirty basement room,
Where, beauty hidden from the eyes,
A table, bed, bureau and broom
The high horses of the sea broke their white riders
On the walls that held and counted the hours
The wind lasted.
Two landbirds looked on and the north and the east
Looked on and the wind poured cups of foam
And the evening began.
The old men in the shanties looked on and lit their
Pipes and the young men spoke of the girls
For a wild night like this.
The south and the west looked on and the moon came
When the wind went down and the sea was sorry
And the singing slow.
Ask how the sunset looked between the wind going
Down and the moon coming up and I would struggle
To tell the how of it.
I give you fire here, I give you water, I give you