Classic Poem

I.

I AM the daughter of the buried past,
The destined mother of the years to come;
On all that was I close the portals fast,
And all that is to be lies in my womb.
I come from those dark realms which lie before —
Time's lightless wastes, where thought itself is blind;
I go to that pale coast called Nevermore,
Where dwell the shades of my departed kind —
Dim melancholy shapes that backward glance,
And weep and linger, turning at no call;
Or bright forms fading in harmonious dance,
With tender parting smiles more sad than all.

II.

I speed to earth along the sun's slant beam,
Among the shimmering motes that hover there,
On wings so still and silken, that they deem
Me, like themselves, an aimless child of air.
They are the glittering sparkles of decay
From earth's unstable crust, its towns and towers,
And from the bones of men that mould away,
Struck by the swift heel of the passing Hours: —
The cloven crowns of kings whose baleful frown
Through crouching nations shot the bolt of death;
The piled-up pride of centuries, toppled down
And ground to wreck impalpable beneath
The desolating tread of my strong race.
Would ye behold Troy, Carthage, Babylon?
The sullen waste imparts no more their place;
Their nameless dust is dancing in the sun.
And I, the youngest, too, shall claim my share;
Build high, build strong! cement with blood and tears!
And I will come and people the thin air
With such winged relics of the toil of years.

III.

My face is veiled, and while I live no eye
Beholds my brow or guesses at my mien;
But when, transfixed by Time, I fall and die,
The Hour that is to be shall lift the screen.
Then shall be known if I was foul or fair —
If peace sat on my silent lips, or pain,
Or such rare loveliness that ye would dare —
If I could hear — to call me back again.
Look well in my still lineaments and say
Was I a loving friend or ruthless foe?
Were my caresses sweet? did I betray?
Accuse me or lament, I shall not know.