Poems / by Madison Cawein ; with a foreward by William Dean Howells [electronic text]
About this Item
Title
Poems / by Madison Cawein ; with a foreward by William Dean Howells [electronic text]
Author
Cawein, Madison, Julius, 1865-1914
Publication
New York, N.Y.: The Macmillan Company
1911
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"Poems / by Madison Cawein ; with a foreward by William Dean Howells [electronic text]." In the digital collection American Verse Project. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/BAE8947.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 22, 2024.
Pages
NOVEMBER
I
THE shivering wind sits in the oaks, whose limbs,Twisted and tortured, nevermore are still;Grief and decay sit with it; they, whose chillAutumnal touch makes hectic-red the rimsOf all the oak leaves; desolating, dimsThe ageratum's blue that banks the rill;And splits the milkweed's pod upon the hill,And shakes it free of the last seed that swims.Down goes the day despondent to its close:And now the sunset's hands of copper buildA tower of brass, behind whose burning barsThe day, in fierce, barbarian repose,Like some imprisoned Inca sits, hate-filled,Crowned with the gold corymbus of the stars.
II
There is a booming in the forest boughs;Tremendous feet seem trampling through the trees:The storm is at his wildman revelries,And earth and heaven echo his carouse.
descriptionPage 293
Night reels with tumult; and, from out her houseOf cloud, the moon looks, — like a face one seesIn nightmare, — hurrying, with pale eyes that freezeStooping above with white, malignant brows.The isolated oak upon the hill,That seemed, at sunset, in terrific landsA Titan head black in a sea of blood,Now seems a monster harp, whose wild strings thrillTo the vast fingering of innumerable hands —Spirits of tempest and of solitude.
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