dots-menu
×

Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Janet Loxley Lewis

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

The End of the Age

Janet Loxley Lewis

From “Cold Hills”

WITH wash and ripple and with wave,

Slow moving lip the long deserted sand,

The little moon went watching the white tide

Flood in and over, spread above the land,

Flood the low marshes, make a silver cover

Where the green sea-weed in a floating mist

Creeps under branch and over.

The wide water spreads, the night goes up the sky,

The era ends.

Tomorrow comes warm blood with a new race,

Warm hearts that ache for lovers and for friends,

And the pitiful grace

Of young defeated heads.

Tomorrow comes the sun, color and flush

And anguish. Now let the water wash

Out of the evening sky the lingering reds,

And spread its coolness higher than the heart

Of every silver bush.

Night circles round the sky. The era ends.