POETRY: A Magazine of Verse
AT THE GRAND CAÑON
Thou settest splendors in my sight, O Lord!
It seems as tho' a deep-hued sunset falls
Forever on these Cyclopean walls—
These battlements where Titan hosts have warred,
And hewn the world with devastating sword,
And shook with trumpets the eternal halts
Where seraphim lay hid by bloody palls
And only Hell and Silence were adored.
Lo! the abyss wherein great Satan's wings
Might gender tempests, and his dragons' breath
Fume up in pestilence. Beneath the sun
Or starry outposts on terrestrial things,
Is no such testimony unto Death
Nor altars builded to Oblivion.
[76]
