Harmonium (Stevens)/Of Heaven Considered as a Tomb
Of Heaven Considered as a Tomb
What word have you, interpreters, of menWho in the tomb of heaven walk by night,The darkened ghosts of our old comedy?Do they believe they range the gusty cold,With lanterns borne aloft to light the way,Freemen of death, about and still aboutTo find whatever it is they seek? Or doesThat burial, pillared up each day as porteAnd spiritous passage into nothingness,Foretell each night the one abysmal night,When the host shall no more wander, nor the lightOf the steadfast lanterns creep across the dark?Make hue among the dark comedians,Halloo them in the topmost distancesFor answer from their icy Elysée.