The Dead Day

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Title:     The Dead Day
Author: Madison Julius Cawein [More Titles by Cawein]

The west builds high a sepulcher
Of cloudy granite and of gold,
Where twilight's priestly hours inter
The Day like some great king of old.

A censer, rimmed with silver fire,
The new moon swings above his tomb;
While, organ-stops of God's own choir,
Star after star throbs in the gloom.

And Night draws near, the sadly sweet--
A nun whose face is calm and fair--
And kneeling at the dead Day's feet
Her soul goes up in mists like prayer.

In prayer, we feel through dewy gleam
And flowery fragrance, and--above
All earth--the ecstasy and dream
That haunt the mystic heart of love.

[The end]
Madison Julius Cawein's poem: Dead Day

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