My heart is like a city of the gay
Reared on the ruins of a perished one
Wherein my dead loves cower from the sun,
White-swathed like kings, the Pharaohs of a day.
Within the buried city stirs no sound,
Save for the bat, forgetful of the rod,
Perched on the knee of some deserted god,
And for the groan of rivers underground.
Stray not, my Love, 'mid the sarcophagi-
Tempt not the silence, for the fates are deep,
Lest all the dreamers, deeming doomsday nigh,
Leap forth in terror from their haunted sleep;
And like the peal of an accursèd bell
Thy voice call ghosts of dead things back from hell.
The Buried City
George Sylvester Viereck
(1)
Poem topics: god, heart, silence, sleep, sun, voice, white, deep, stray, save, sound, Valentine's Day, city, love, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Previous Poem
The Candle And The Flame Poem>>
Write your comment about The Buried City poem by George Sylvester Viereck
Best Poems of George Sylvester Viereck