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1886–1950

GOLDEN SYMPHONY

John Gould Fletcher

Seen from afar, the city To-day is like a golden cloud: Strayed from the sky and moulded Into dim motionless towers.

Music is passing far off: Music serenely Is climbing up and vanishing On the long grey stairways of the sky,

In fanlike rays of light. Now it falls slowly, Careering, toppling, Shivering and quivering like burnished glass or laburnum-blossom,

Golden cascades. Peace: now let the music Sound from further away, Red bells out of memory's

Blue dream of regret. Seen from afar, the city To-day is like a fleet of sails: Breaking the foam of dark forests,

In which I have strayed so long. They march together slowly, The golden temple terraces, Against the dark remembrance

Of my pools of despair. The gates of the city lie open, And the whole world goes homeward, Full-pulsing bells in the foreground,

Catching my soul with them On where the sun soars broadly through the incense-dome of the sky.

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GOLDEN SYMPHONY · John Gould Fletcher · Poetry Cove