I. THE TREES <br />THERE is no glory of the sunset here! <br />Heavy the clouds upon the darkening road, <br />And heavy, too, the wind upon the trees! <br />The trees sway, making moan <br />Continuous, like breaking seas. <br />impotent, bare things, <br />You give at last the very cry of earth! <br />I walk this darkening road in solemn mood: <br />Within deep hell came Dante to a wood <br />Like him I marvel at the crying trees! <br /> <br /> <br />II. THE STAR <br />A mighty star anear has drawn and now <br />Is vibrant on the air <br /> <br />The half-divested, trembling trees of his <br />Bright presence are aware <br /> <br />Below within the stream I him behold <br />Between the marge and main - <br /> <br />My bone and flesh, what dust they'll be when he, <br />That star, dips here again! <br /> <br /> <br />III. THE CAPTIVE ARCHER <br />To-morrow I will bend the bow: <br />My soul shall have her mark again, <br />My bosom feel the archer's strain. <br />No longer pacing to and fro <br />With idle hands and listless brain: <br /> <br />As goes the arrow, forth I go. <br />My soul shall have her mark again, <br />My bosom feel the archer's strain. <br />To-morrow I will bend the bow. <br /> <br /> <br />IV. TRIUMPHATORS <br />The drivers in the sunset race <br />Their coal-carts over cobble-stones <br />Not draymen but tnumphators: <br />Their bags are left with Smith and Jones, <br />They let the horses take their stride, <br />Which toss their forelocks in their pride. <br /> <br />Not blue nor green these factions wear <br />Which make career o'er Dublin stones; <br />But Pluto his own livery <br />Is what each whip-carrier owns. <br />The Caesar of the cab-rank, I <br />Salute the triumph speeding by.<br /><br />Padraic Colum<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wayfarer-6/
