The Immortal



BEAUTY is still immortal in our eyes;
When sways no more the spirit-haunted reed,
When the wild grape shall build
No more her canopies,
When blows no more the moon-gray thistle seed,
When the last bell has lulled the white flocks home,
When the last eve has stilled
The wandering wing and touched the dying foam,
When the last moon burns low, and, spark by spark,
The little worlds die out along the dark,–

Beauty that rosed the moth-wing, touched the land
With clover-horns and delicate faint flowers,
Beauty that bade the showers
Beat on the violet's face,
Shall hold the eternal heavens within their place
And hear new stars come singing from God's hand.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

36 sec read
38

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABCABDCDEE FGGHHF
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 653
Words 118
Stanzas 2
Stanza Lengths 10, 6

Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

 · 1922 · Vancouver

Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall, was a Canadian writer who was born in England but lived in Canada from the time she was seven. She was once "thought to be the best Canadian poet of her generation." more…

All Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall poems | Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall Books

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    "The Immortal" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 23 Dec. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/26460/the-immortal>.

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