The Path of Kultur
HERE ran a road for lovers once,With maples in the moon;And under a bridge a water wentWeaving a dreamy rune.And high upon the sycamores,The nightingales all nightBesieged the dark with melody,Disturbed the boughs with flight.And here in coverts of tall grassLooked up a friendly spring,Glad to behold a face bent down,Or feel a fleeting wing.But now the lovers come no more;The road is rutted and marredBy wheels and shrieking shells: the treesAre shattered, chopt and charred.New graves are billowing now: the fieldLike windy water heaves:The nightingales are gone: the springIs choked with bloody leaves.And here at noon a vulture swoopsOn obscene errands bound:And here at night remembering ghostsGo by without a sound.
HERE ran a road for lovers once,With maples in the moon;And under a bridge a water wentWeaving a dreamy rune.And high upon the sycamores,The nightingales all nightBesieged the dark with melody,Disturbed the boughs with flight.And here in coverts of tall grassLooked up a friendly spring,Glad to behold a face bent down,Or feel a fleeting wing.But now the lovers come no more;The road is rutted and marredBy wheels and shrieking shells: the treesAre shattered, chopt and charred.New graves are billowing now: the fieldLike windy water heaves:The nightingales are gone: the springIs choked with bloody leaves.And here at noon a vulture swoopsOn obscene errands bound:And here at night remembering ghostsGo by without a sound.
HERE ran a road for lovers once,With maples in the moon;And under a bridge a water wentWeaving a dreamy rune.
HERE ran a road for lovers once,
With maples in the moon;
And under a bridge a water went
Weaving a dreamy rune.
And high upon the sycamores,The nightingales all nightBesieged the dark with melody,Disturbed the boughs with flight.
And high upon the sycamores,
The nightingales all night
Besieged the dark with melody,
Disturbed the boughs with flight.
And here in coverts of tall grassLooked up a friendly spring,Glad to behold a face bent down,Or feel a fleeting wing.
And here in coverts of tall grass
Looked up a friendly spring,
Glad to behold a face bent down,
Or feel a fleeting wing.
But now the lovers come no more;The road is rutted and marredBy wheels and shrieking shells: the treesAre shattered, chopt and charred.
But now the lovers come no more;
The road is rutted and marred
By wheels and shrieking shells: the trees
Are shattered, chopt and charred.
New graves are billowing now: the fieldLike windy water heaves:The nightingales are gone: the springIs choked with bloody leaves.
New graves are billowing now: the field
Like windy water heaves:
The nightingales are gone: the spring
Is choked with bloody leaves.
And here at noon a vulture swoopsOn obscene errands bound:And here at night remembering ghostsGo by without a sound.
And here at noon a vulture swoops
On obscene errands bound:
And here at night remembering ghosts
Go by without a sound.
EDWIN MARKHAM.