BEAUTY is still immortal in our eyes;
When sways no more the spirit-haunted reed,
When the wild grape shall build
No more her canopies,
When blows no more the moon-gray thistle seed,
When the last bell has lulled the white flocks home,
When the last eve has stilled
The wandering wing and touched the dying foam,
When the last moon burns low, and, spark by spark,
The little worlds die out along the dark,-
Beauty that rosed the moth-wing, touched the land
With clover-horns and delicate faint flowers,
Beauty that bade the showers
Beat on the violet's face,
Shall hold the eternal heavens within their place
And hear new stars come singing from God's hand.
The Immortal
Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
(1)
Poem topics: dark, god, home, wild, white, place, hear, eternal, face, spirit, violet, hold, delicate, moon, wing, spark, beauty, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about The Immortal poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Best Poems of Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall