The Inviolate
There on the white Pacific shore the pines Still serve their jealous gods, and late and soonThe murmur runs along their rugged lines, "What black ship[1] waits the crash of our typhoon?"
And in this vigil circled, calm and proud, God-gates and temples glow with changeless noon,Their mysteries luring that young seraph-cloud Swan-like between the mountain and the moon.
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- ↑ Black ship, i.e. foreign warship, as introduced by Commodore Perry.
