At Dawn and Dusk


Victor James Daley

THE AWFUL seers of old, who wrote in words
    Like drops of blood great thoughts that through the night
    Of ages burn, as eyes of lions light
Deep jungle-dusks; who smote with songs like swords
The soul of man on its most secret chords,
    And made the heart of him a harp to smite,—
    Where are they? where that old man lorn of sight,
The king of song among these laurelled lords?
But where are all the ancient singing-spheres
    That burst through chaos like the summer’s breath
    Through ice-bound seas where never seaman steers?
Burnt out. Gone down. No star remembereth
These stars and seers well-silenced through the years—
    The songless years of everlasting death.

At Dawn and Dusk - Contents

Back    |    Words Home    |    Victor James Daley Home    |    Site Info.    |    Feedback