Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/95

 That song should thus forsaken be, On that forgotten ground there lay The broken flutes of Arcady. The forest that was all so grand When pipes and tabors had their sway Stood leafless now, a ghostly band Of skeletons in cold array. A lonely surge of ancient spray Told of an unforgetful sea, But iron blows had hushed for aye The broken flutes of Arcady. No more by summer breezes fanned, The place was desolate and gray; But still my dream was to command New life into that shrunken clay. I tried it. And you scan to-day, With uncommiserating glee, The songs of one who strove to play The broken flutes of Arcady. So, Rock, I join the common fray, To fight where Mammon may decree; And leave, to crumble as they may, The broken flutes of Arcady.

from the street and the crowds that went, Morning and midnight, to and fro, Still was the room where his days he spent, And the stars were bleak, and the nights were slow.