Classic Poem

" Hearken! 'Tis news I cry! "
The shades drift by ...
" Strange and ominous things:
A four-foot Beast upon Wings,
Thieves in a burning Mill,
An empty Cross on a Hill,
Ravin of swine in Beauty's places,
And a Woman with two Faces!

" News! — News! " I call, ...
" But a wind from the cold unknown
Scatters the words as they fall —
Into naught they are blown. "

What do these Walkers seek,
Pranked up in silk and in flax,
With a changeless rose on the cheek,
And Hell's hump on their backs?
These of the mincing gait,
And an ape in each sidelong leer;
These for the Way that is strait
To the pomp-hung bier;
These of the wasted dream,
Of the loveless silver and gold,
And the worm of disgust in them
That shall never grow old?

Not unto such I cry,
But to thee, O Solitary! ...
" The world founders in air,
Plague-stricken Vanity Fair
Dyed hath its booths with blood;
Quenched are its stars in mud;
Come now the Mourners to chaunt
End and lament. "

There is a stream I know,
Sullen in flood its waters flow,
Heavy with secrets, slow,
Leaden and lightless, deep
With slumber and sleep.
Shall not even Innocence find
Peace of body and mind?
Ay, but thou also art old,
And there's news to be told.

News, strange to hearing and sight ...
" It is Winter. And Night.
An icy and pitiless moon
Witched hath our sea-tides. And soon
The Nymph in her grottoes will hear
The loud trumpet of fear!
She weepeth cold tears in the sea! ... "

You shall buy not such tidings of me:
" Stoop an ear, bow a desolate head:
It is breathed, " Love is dead." "