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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373426" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>From 'Lines In Memory Of Edmund Morris</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">HERE Morris, on the plains that we have loved,<br>Think of the death of Akoose, fleet of foot,<br>Who, in his prime, a herd of antelope<br>From sunrise, without rest, a hundred miles<br>Drove through rank prairie, loping like a wolf,<br>Tired them and slew them, ere the sun went down.<br>Akoose, in his old age, blind from the smoke<br>Of tepees and the sharp snow light, alone<br>With his great grandchildren, withered and spent,<br>Crept in the warm sun along a rope<br>Stretched for his guidance. Once when sharp autumn<br>Made membranes of thin ice upon the sloughs,<br>He caught a pony on a quick return<br>Of prowess, and, all his instincts cleared and quickened,<br>He mounted, sensed the north and bore away<br>To the Last Mountain Lake where in his youth<br>He shot the sand-hill-cranes with his flint arrows.<br>And for these hours in all the varied pomp<br>Of pagan fancy and free dreams of foray<br>And crude adventure, he ranged on entranced,<br>Until the sun blazed level with the prairie,<br>Then paused, faltered and slid from off his pony.<br>In a little bluff of poplars, hid in the bracken,<br>He lay down; the populace of leaves<br>In the lithe poplars whispered together and trembled,<br>Fluttered before a sunset of gold smoke,<br>With interspaces, green as sea water,<br>And calm as the deep water of the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There Akoose lay, silent amid the bracken,<br>Gathered at last with the Algonquin Chieftains.<br>Then the tenebrous sunset was blown out,<br>And all the smoky gold turned into cloud wrack.<br>Akoose slept forever amid the poplars,<br>Swathed by the wind from the far-off Red Deer<br>Where dinosaurs sleep, clamped in their rocky tombs.<br>Who shall count the time that lies between<br>The sleep of Akoose and the dinosaurs?<br>Innumerable time, that yet is like the breath<br>Of the long wind that creeps upon the prairie<br>And dies away with the shadows at sundown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">. . . . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What we may think, who brood upon the theme,<br>Is, when the old world, tired of spinning, has fallen<br>Asleep, and all the forms, that carried the fire<br>Of life, are cold upon her marble heart–<br>Like ashes on the altar–just as she stops,<br>That something will escape of soul or essence,–<br>The sum of life, to kindle otherwhere:<br>Just as the fruit of a high sunny garden,<br>Grown mellow with autumnal sun and rain,<br>Shrivelled with ripeness, splits to the rich heart,<br>And looses a gold kernel to the mould,<br>So the old world, hanging long in the sun,<br>And deep enriched with effort and with love,<br>Shall, in the motions of maturity,<br>Wither and part, and the kernel of it all<br>Escape, a lovely wraith of spirit, to latitudes<br>Where the appearance, throated like a bird,<br>Winged with fire and bodied all with passion,<br>Shall flame with presage, not of tears, but joy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Duncan+Campbell+Scott">Duncan Campbell Scott</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373426" data-title="From 'Lines In Memory Of Edmund Morris de Duncan Campbell Scott" data-description="HERE Morris, on the plains that we have loved,
Think of the death of Akoose, fleet of foot,
Who, in his prime, a herd of antelope
From sunrise, without rest, a hundred miles
Drove through rank prairie, loping like a wolf,
Tired them and slew them,..."></div>
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