In dreams I crossed a barren land, <br />A land of ruin, far away; <br />Around me hung on every hand <br />A deathful stillness of decay; <br />And silent, as in bleak dismay <br />That song should thus forsaken be, <br />On that forgotten ground there lay <br />The broken flutes of Arcady. <br /> <br />The forest that was all so grand <br />When pipes and tabors had their sway <br />Stood leafless now, a ghostly band <br />Of skeletons in cold array. <br />A lonely surge of ancient spray <br />Told of an unforgetful sea, <br />But iron blows had hushed for aye <br />The broken flutes of Arcady. <br /> <br />No more by summer breezes fanned, <br />The place was desolate and gray; <br />But still my dream was to command <br />New life into that shrunken clay. <br />I tried it. Yes, you scan to-day, <br />With uncommiserating glee, <br />The songs of one who strove to play <br />The broken flutes of Arcady. <br /> <br />ENVOY <br /> <br />So, Rock, I join the common fray, <br />To fight where Mammon may decree; <br />And leave, to crumble as they may, <br />The broken flutes of Arcady.<br /><br />Edwin Arlington Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballad-of-broken-flutes/
