Читать книгу Myth and Romance: Being a Book of Verses - Cawein Madison Julius - Страница 7

Then up the orient heights to the zenith, that balanced the crescent,—

Up and far up and over,—the heaven grew erubescent,

Vibrant with rose and with ruby from the hands of the harpist Dawn,

Smiting symphonic fire on the firmament's barbiton:

And the East was a priest who adored with offerings of gold and of gems,

And a wonderful carpet unrolled for the inaccessible hems

Of the glistening robes of her limbs; that, lily and amethyst,

Swept glorying on and on through temples of cloud and mist.

Then out of the splendor and richness, that burned like a magic stone,

The torrent suffusion that deepened and dazzled and broadened and shone,

The pomp and the pageant of color, triumphal procession of glare,

The sun, like a king in armor, breathing splendor from feet to hair,

Stood forth with majesty girdled, as a hero who towers afar

Where the bannered gates are bristling hells and the walls are roaring war:

And broad on the back of the world, like a Cherubin's fiery blade,

The effulgent gaze of his aspect fell in glittering accolade.

Then billowing blue, like an ocean, rolled from the shores of morn to even:

And the stars, like rafts, went down: and the moon, like a ghost-ship, driven,

A feather of foam, from port to port of the cloud-built isles that dotted,

With pearl and cameo, bays of the day, her canvas webbed and rotted,

Lay lost in the gulf of heaven: while over her mixed and melted

The beautiful children of Morn, whose bodies are opal-belted;

The beautiful daughters of Dawn, who, over and under, and after

The rivered radiance, wrestled; and rainbowed heaven with laughter

Of halcyon sapphire.—O Dawn! thou visible mirth,

And hallelujah of Heaven! hosanna of Earth!