And sits him like a statue there,
Transfigured in the sunset sea
A bronze, bare sphynx of mystery!
A moment thus, in wonder lost,
His eagle plumes all backward tossed,
Then wheels again, as swift as wind,
The wild hair floating free behind.
And sunset's crinkled surges pour
Along an empty waste once more!
But you, since that fantastic shade
Across ydur desert path has played,
Distrust the very ground you tread,
And shiver with a nameless dread
Till stars drop crimson, and the sky
Is wan with heartless treachery.
For many days a form of white
Has flashed and faded in your sight
In fleeting glimpses, as of wings,
Our God's bright palm in beckonings.
It is a secret nursed of each
You dare not give the thought in speech,
So wierdly solemn is the sign
- As if, upon the western stairs,
- The angels of a thousand prayers
Were come with sacred bread and wine.
Again, the still, enchanted hour
Of sunset burns in crimson flower,
And purple-hearted shadows sleep
Like clustered pansies, warm and deep,
- Eastward of wreathen crag and wall.
The road that wound and wound all day
In many a dark and devious way
At last with one swift curve ascends
A rolling plain that breaks and bends
- Westward, till rosy curtains fall
- O'er mountains massed and magical.
Resplendent as a pearly tent
Upon the fir-fringed battlement-
Serene in sunset gold and rose,
A pyramid of splendor glows,
So vast and calm and bright your dream
Is dust and ashes in its gleam.
A maiden speaks "He led us far
It is the golden western star!"
And then a youth "Our goal is won
'Tis the pavilion of the sun."
A gray sage, then, in undertone
"It must be Hood, so grand and lone
The shining citadel and throne
Of Terminus, that Roman god
Who marked the line that legions trod,
And set the limits of the world
Where Caesar's battle flags were furled!
Oh, for the days of dark-eyed prophetess
Who sang in Syrian wilderness
- The gilded chariots' overthrow,
