Poems (Proctor)/The Blue above Potomac
THE BLUE ABOVE POTOMAC.
The fairest clouds that deck the sky Above Potomac's tide are seen;—The soft tints of the sea-shell's dye;The hues that in Damascus vie(Those bowers Barada wanders by) With sunsets Hermon shines between;When tranquil evening's latest rayO'er Tyre and Sidon melts awayThrough gold and rose and violetTill Sharon's plain with dew is wet,And the hills darken, one by one,And night comes down on Lebanon.
Rare as the cloud by Volga's stream When morning over Asia shone;The cloud which caught its crimson beamAnd sailed o'er earth and sky supreme,Wrapped in that fiery-purple gleam— An eagle from the Oural blown,A messenger of bliss or banWith wide wings drifting past Kazan!And dome and cross and minaretA moment in its bloom were set;Then flame and purple paled to grayAnd down the steppe dissolved in day.
And glows as warm as those that steep In twilight splendor Egypt's river,When cool the winds from Philæ creepPast Karnak's immemorial sleepAnd Memnon's watchers fain to keep Their gaze adown the east forever!While, north, the pyramids recline,Wan peaks against the golden shine,And through the orange dusk the plainDims to the desert and the main;—Such morning gleams, such evening glows,The blue above Potomac knows.