Classic Poem

The murmur of the city sounded on
— Below the plaintive murmur of a hymn
That Sabbath day; the edge of life was gone,
— A veil of smoke made all the houses dim.
My eyes forgot to see — and lo, they saw
A sight that filled my shaken soul with awe!

For I was in the land where all lay clear
— Betwixt the sunshine and the shining sand.
And nothing far there was and nothing near —
— You might have touched the mountains with your hand —
And yet I looked upon them o'er a plain
Vast as the vastness of the untravelled main.

Tall rows of pillars — stems of flowering stone
— Sprang up around me in their ordered growth.
Here sat a maid, and there an ancient crone —
— The straight, bright shafts of light illumined both.
No shadow was there and no sound — the hum
Of brooding silence kept the temple dumb.

Three tombs of Kings, each with his corners three,
— Shut out three spaces of the golden sky.
Clear, flat, and bright, they hid no mystery,
— But painted mummies, of a scarlet dye,
That lay embalmed there many a long term,
Safe from unkindly damp and creeping worm.

Deep set beneath a sibyl's wrinkled brow,
— The ancient woman's eyes were full of song.
They held the voice of Time; and even now
— I mind me how the burden rolled along;
For I forgot the music of the birds,
And music's self, and music knit to words.

Then did I turn me to the maiden's eyes,
— And they were as the sea, brimming and deep.
Within them lay the secret of the skies,
— The rhythmical tranquillity of sleep.
They were more quiet than a windless calm
Among the isles of spices and of balm.

Now music is an echo in mine ear,
— And common stillness but the lack of noise;
For the true music I shall never hear,
— Nor the true silence, mother of all joys.
They dwell apart on that enchanted ground
Where not a shadow falls and not a sound.