A Fallen Pine

POEMS

A FALLEN PINE

Uncrowned, unsceptered, head to earth,

Cloud-breasting giant fallen low,

No more your proud plumes dust the sky-

Disheveled now and matted in the dirt.

Plates of your armor are fallen from your sides,

And through wide rents in the gold-hammered mail

Your body gleams rigid and grey in death.

Conquered, conquered, splendid Titan,

By the All-conqueror,

You now lie low upon the very place

Where for ten centuries you held dominion:

Prone, broken, hushed and dead;

Your arms outstretched so still upon the breast;

No whisper and no tremor and no thrill

From the West Wind or the South,

From sun or rain;

No pride in combat with the storm.

When was the night of your defeat?

What powers were met for your undoing?

Pitch-thick darkness fell as a black mask

Before the Starry-face, and all the envious ones

Gathered on bat wings so that the stars

Were blotted, and the rush of wings

Was as the roar of cataracts descending.

Then, then your triple mail was split

By the white javelins, and your mighty feet

Were tripped by unseen wrestlers, and you fell

With a great cry-so that earth shuddered,

The mountains shivered, and your conquerors,

Frightened, stood still awhile to pour

Their melancholy rain.