Poems about re-echoing (18 Poems)


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    The Progress Of A Divine: Satire (Richard Savage Poems)

    All priests are not the same, be understood!Priests are, like other folks, some bad, some good.What’s vice or virtue, sure admits no doubt;Then, clergy, with church mission, or without;When good, or bad, annex we to your name,The greater honour, or … Continue reading



    The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto I (Richard Savage Poems)

    Fain would my verse, Tyrconnel, boast thy name,Brownlow, at once my subject and my fame!Oh! could that spirit, which thy bosom warms,Whose strength surprises, and whose goodness charms!That various worth! could that inspire my lays,Envy should smile, and censure learn … Continue reading



    Winona – Famine (Hanford Lennox Gordon Poems)

    Waziya_ came down from the North–     from the land of perpetual winter.From his frost-covered beard issued forth the sharp-biting,     shrill-whistling North-wind;At the touch of his breath     the wide earth turned to stone, and the lakes and the rivers:From his nostrils the white vapors … Continue reading



    Gloria! (Patience Worth Poems)

    Oh, ye mighty walls and towering spires!Astride the cowled gabled ways;Thy emblazoned scripts depictingFanciful reaction of ancient times;Smoking altars upon which yellow candles flare,Burning the sacred air, to send aloftA pungent scent of mouldering decay,Blackening with slow, sure touchThe placid … Continue reading



    Piper Of The Past (Patience Worth Poems)

    I sit beside the sweeping waters,Letting fancy free, and throughThe vast realms of Time comes to meA far-off cry, wailing through the agesLike a shepherd’s pipe, calling, calling.Methinks that on a distant fieldI see fair blooms, whose headsHave rested neath … Continue reading



    The Song’s End (Leon Gellert Poems)

    Where will the song end? Here?Here by the stretching arcRed-rimmed and clear>Or there in the dark?Where will the song end?Here, where the lizard sticks its tongueInto the wide air?Or there with a friend?Where will the last note be sung?Here, or … Continue reading



    Tekel (Edith Nesbit Poems)

    WHEN on the West broke light from out the East,     Then from the splendour and the shame of Rome– Renouncing wealth and pleasure, game and feast,     And all the joys of his polluted home,     … Continue reading



    The Fight With The Dragon (Friedrich von Schiller Poems)

    Why run the crowd?  What means the throngThat rushes fast the streets along?Can Rhodes a prey to flames, then, be?In crowds they gather hastily,And, on his steed, a noble knightAmid the rabble, meets my sight;Behind him—prodigy unknown!—A monster fierce they’re … Continue reading



    The City at the End of Things (Archibald Lampman Poems)

       Beside the pounding cataracts    Of midnight streams unknown to us   ‘Tis builded in the leafless tracts   And valleys huge of Tartarus.   Lurid and lofty and vast it seems;   It hath no rounded name that rings,   But I have heard it called in dreams   The City of the End of Things.   Its roofs and iron towers have grown  None knoweth how high within the night,  But in its murky streets far down  A flaming terrible and bright  Shakes all the stalking shadows there,  Across the walls, across the floors,  And shifts upon the upper air  From out a thousand furnace doors;  And all the while an awful sound  Keeps roaring on continually,  And crashes in the ceaseless round  Of a gigantic harmony.  Through its grim depths re-echoing  And all its weary height of walls,  With measured roar and iron ring,  The inhuman music lifts and falls.  Where no thing rests and no man is,  And only fire and night hold sway;  The beat, the thunder and the hiss  Cease not, and change not, night nor day.  And moving at unheard commands,  The abysses and vast fires between,  Flit figures that with clanking hands  Obey a hideous routine;  They are not flesh, they are not bone,  They see not with the human eye,  And from their iron lips is blown  A dreadful and monotonous cry;  And whoso of our mortal race  Should find that city unaware,  Lean Death would smite him face to face,  And blanch him with its venomed air:  Or caught by the terrific spell,  Each thread of memory snapt and cut,  His soul would shrivel and its shell  Go rattling like an empty nut.   It was not always so, but once,  In days that no man thinks upon,  Fair voices echoed from its stones,  The light above it leaped and shone:  Once there were multitudes of men,  That built that city in their pride,  Until its might was made, and then  They withered age by age and died.  But now of that prodigious race,  Three only in an iron tower,  Set like carved idols face to face,  Remain the masters of its power;  And at the city gate a fourth,  Gigantic and with dreadful eyes,  Sits looking toward the lightless north,  Beyond the reach of memories;  Fast rooted to the lurid floor,  A bulk that never moves a jot,  In his pale body dwells no more,  Or mind or soul,-an idiot!  But sometime in the end those three  Shall perish and their hands be still,  And with the master’s touch shall flee  Their incommunicable skill.  A stillness absolute as death  Along the slacking wheels shall lie,  And, flagging at a single breath,  The fires shall moulder out and die.  The roar shall vanish at its height,  And over that tremendous town  The silence of eternal night  Shall gather close and settle down.  All its grim grandeur, tower and hall,  Shall be abandoned utterly,  And into rust and dust shall fall  From century to century;  Nor ever living thing shall grow,  Nor trunk of tree, nor blade of grass;  No drop shall fall, no wind shall blow,  Nor sound of any foot shall pass:  Alone of its accursèd state,  One thing the hand of Time shall spare,  For the grim Idiot at the gate  Is deathless and eternal there. (Archibald Lampman)



    Vestigia Retrorsum (George Henry Boker Poems)

    There is a spot I call accursed,Because my thoughts for ever wingBack to its gloom, from whence they burst,And settle on the loathsome thing. The thick black pool, the waterfall,Swart crags that nurture noxious vines,The long, unbending outer wallMade by … Continue reading





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