Sunset And Storm


Madison Cawein

Deep with divine tautology,

The sunset's mighty mystery

Again has traced the scroll-like west

With hieroglyphs of burning gold:

Forever new, forever old,

Its miracle is manifest.

Time lays the scroll away. And now

Above the hills a giant brow

Of cloud Night lifts; and from his arm,

Barbaric black, upon the world,

With thunder, wind and fire, is hurled

His awful argument of storm.

What part, O man, is yours in such?

Whose awe and wonder are in touch

With Nature,—speaking rapture to

Your soul,—yet leaving in your reach

No human word of thought or speech

Commensurate with the thing you view.

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