Treasure Island

William Vaughn Moody

(1869 - 1910 / United States)

The Golden Journey


All day he drowses by the sail
With dreams of her, and all night long
The broken waters are at song
Of how she lingers, wild and pale,
When all the temple lights are dumb,
And weaves her spells to make him come.

The wide sea traversed, he will stand
With straining eyes, until the shoal
Green water from the prow shall roll
Upon the yellow strip of sand -
Searching some fern-hid tangled way
Into the forest old and grey.

Then he will leap upon the shore,
And cast one look up at the sun,
Over his loosened locks will run
The dawn breeze, and a bird will pour
Its rapture out to make life seem
Too sweet to leave for such a dream.

But all the swifter will he go
Through the pale, scattered asphodels,
Down mote-hung dusk of olive dells,
To where the ancient basins throw
Fleet threads of blue and trembling zones
Of gold upon the temple stones.

There noon keeps just a twilight trace;
Twixt love and hate, and death and birth,
No man may choose; nor sobs nor mirth
May enter in that haunted place.
All day the fountain sphynx lets drip
Slow drops of silence from her lip.

To hold the porch-roof slender girls
Of milk-white marble stand arow;
Doubt never blurs a single brow,
And never the noon's faintness curls
From their expectant hush of pride
The lips the god has glorified.

But these things he will barely view,
Or if he stay to heed them, still
But as the lark the lights that spill
From out the sun it soars unto,
Where, past the splendors and the heats,
The sun's heart's self forever beats.

For wide the brazen doors will swing
Soon as his sandals touch the pave;
The anxious light inside will wave
And tremble to a lunar ring
About the form that lieth prone
Before the dreadful altar-stone.

She will not look or speak or stir,
But with drowned lips and cheeks death-white
Will lie amid the pool of light,
Until, grown faint with thirst of her,
He shall bow down his face and sink
Breathless beneath the eddying brink.

Then a swift music will begin,
And as the brazen doors shut slow,
There will be hurrying to and fro,
And lights and calls and silver din,
While through the star-freaked swirl of air
The god's sweet cruel eyes will stare.

Submitted: Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Edited: Sunday, May 08, 2011

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Golden Journey by William Vaughn Moody )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Lay Me Down, Myrtle Thomas
  2. Dessert Deluge ..... [ 'just' DESSERTS,.., Bri Edwards
  3. Standard asset, gajanan mishra
  4. AnyThing In ReTurn, Kewayne Wadley
  5. If all we know is love, Mark Heathcote
  6. Remove Yourself From Bitterness, Ronell Warren Alman
  7. Fornicating In The Bowels Of Unswerving .., Captain Cur
  8. im not okay, Faith Taylors
  9. The world is like a worm, Mark Heathcote
  10. Our shared tear, Julie Shirley

Poem of the Day

poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet Randall Jarrell

 

Trending Poems

  1. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  3. Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
  4. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
  5. Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
  6. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  7. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
  8. Dreams, Langston Hughes
  9. If, Rudyard Kipling
  10. Alone, Edgar Allan Poe

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]