David. Not in these garments dripping as the trees! Not in these clinging shadows!
Corinna. Ah, good-night! Dear love, dear love, I must go forth in these. Tomorrow you shall see me all in white.
Agnes Lee
THE ORACLE (To the New Telescope on Mt. Wilson)
Of old sat one at Delphi brooding o'er The fretful earth;—ironically wise, Veiling her prescience in dark replies, She shaped the fates of men with mystic lore. The oracle is silent now. No more Fate parts the cloud that round omniscience lies. But thou, O Seer, dost tease our wild surmise With portents passing all the wealth of yore. For thou shalt spell the very thoughts of God! Before thy boundless vision, world on world Shall multiply in glit'ring sequence far; And all the little ways which men have trod Shall be as nothing by His star-dust whirled Into the making of a single star.
A GARGOYLE ON NOTRE DAME
With angel's wings and brutish-human form, Weathered with centuries of sun and storm, He crouches yonder on the gallery wall, Monstrous, superb, indifferent, cynical: And all the pulse of Paris cannot stir Her one immutable philosopher.
Edmund Kemper Broadus