Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/232

204 The innumerous multitudes from every zone,

That watch and listen; while each eye doth fill

With joyous tears unwept. Now solemn strains

Of brazen music give the waiting soul

Voice and a sigh—it other speech disdains,

Here where the visual sense faints to its goal!

Ah, silent multitudes, ye are a part

Of the wise architect's supreme and glorious art!

V

O joy almost too high for saddened mortal!

O ecstasy envisioned! Thou shouldst be

Lasting as thou art lovely; as immortal

As through all time the matchless thought of thee!

Yet would we miss, then, the sweet, piercing pain

Of thy inconstancy! Could we but banish

This haunting pang, ah, then thou wouldst not reign

One with the golden sunset that doth vanish

Through myriad lingering tints down melting skies;

Nor the pale mystery of the New World flower

That blooms once only, then forever dies—

Pouring a century's wealth on one dear hour.

Then vanish, City of Dream, and be no more;

Soon shall this fair Earth's self be lost on the unknown shore.

THE TOWER OF FLAME

(THE COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION, JULY 10, 1893)

for the world to see men brought their fairest,

Whatever of beauty is in all the earth;

The priceless flower of art, the loveliest, rarest,

Here by our inland ocean came to glorious birth.