Sarah Simon - Part 9

by Hervey Allen

Hervey Allen

Thus Sarah slept, and woke in a lone world,
And that was almost fifty years ago.
Her children's generation passed away,
Leaving the things, or what was left of them,
While time went on, and great-grandchildren came
Peeping at Sarah's house. She let them play
About the place with puppies and the kids,
And loved them while they played thus, but they grew
Out of her secret, the inheritance.
That Sarah felt went with the land and house;
Which those who could not find it should not share.

In still communion Sarah has lived on,
Withdrawn, beyond the island life about
That feels the drag of tides upon its shores
Turning the currents of sequestered lives
Towards cities that are magnets to our world,
Like moons that lay their influence on the seas
Through seasons of their waxing sovereignty —
When all things set toward them — till they wane.
A star above that strongly ebbing tide,
That mariners can steer by, if they will,
Still Sarah's lamp burns when the darkness falls;
On land a square of light that never moves.
But lays calm orange glow upon the cove
As if it were to welcome someone home
Who plies his trade in darkness, or at sea.
High overhead with outstretched giant arms,
Sweeping in mighty circling beams about
The whole horizon with a lurid light,
The lighthouse beams shoot out; move round and glow;
And then dart out again — so all night long,
Warning all men of danger on those coasts
Where Sarah has found peace for ninety years.
Together both lights shine, one high, one low.

And some men think that when the seasons run,
As run they will in cycles, and the tide
Sweeps back again, imperial lighthouses
Will go the way imperial things do go.
When owls about their shattered lenses flit,
When pharos, camp, and theater are still,
Then from such lights as Sarah's will stream out
A glow to welcome tired fishers home
Or toilers from the twilight-misty fields —
After the kings and cities have their will,
After the long streets shiver and grow still,
When traceries of cellars mock the moon —
A lamp upon the cottage window sill.





Last updated September 05, 2017