THE DEATH OF A POET
.
Only the Swans that day
Saw the high maker of our thoughts embark
And on the Lake Mysterious fade away
In the black ship that crosses to the dark.
.
The poet's robe was his,
Embroidered with illustrious fleurs-de-lys;
And laurel leaf and thorn
His sad prefigured forehead did adorn.
.
Afar God's City rose,
Where everlasting Peace her throne has reared
Above the poppy-meadows of repose;
And as the coat of his desire he neared,
He proved divine delight, knew grace untold,
Beheld the Cross uplifted and, before
That sacred Conqueror,
The fallen Sphinx, a corpse already cold.
.
Nicaragua
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