SUNSET ON THE ACROPOLIS
If ever I have freed me of all time,
Let me so free me now, that I have brought me
Near to these hill-top temples, which have caught me
Up to their soaring heights and Vision wrought me
Of things serene, and stricken, and sublime.
Let me, the titled, spurious Christian, face
This solemn wistfulness of Pagan yearning—
This aspiration of white columns, burning
With golden fires, their pillars deep inurning
The tragic, sunset beauty of the place.
Let me stand silent, under evening skies,
Watching this radiance grown cold and hoary;
In death-white, black-stained ruins, read the story
The Parthenon tells of ancient Grecian glory,
Reiterating beauty as it dies.
Let me stand silently and humbly, there,
Seeking that Unknown God Greeks apprehended;
That, as the temples fade, and day is ended,
My own hope with this ancient faith be blended,
And I be part of this eternal prayer!