Stonehenge

STONEHENGE
  

What mouthless idiom here throbs the indurated
Heft of engulfed ages? Enshadowed fathers, 
To out-moan the wind as through your pillared clefts 
It casts such chill, what could those now who yet
May thrill in the chant of your stern revenant 
Invoke to reply through this impassable
Abysm through which you loom? We who suffer
Our fatal truth and mourn, and must mourn ever
The catastrophe of its depleting 
Survey of all our hearts need most.

 

As beyond

Your fate-fractured mortar clasped so in frost,
An amaranthine flood, like of a dream,
Lambently through the fading of the stars
Heaves to wake again--speak!