At the Grand Caņon

By George Sterling

Thou settest splendors in my sight, O Lord!
    It seems as though a deep-hued sunset falls
    Forever on these Cyclopean walls,—
These battlements where Titan hosts have warred,
And hewn the world with devastating sword,
    And shook with trumpets the eternal halls
    Where seraphim lay hid by bloody palls
And only Hell and Silence were adored.

Lo! the abyss wherein great Satan's wings
    Might gender tempests, and his dragons' breath
        Fume up in pestilence. Beneath the sun
Or starry outposts on terrestrial things,
    Is no such testimony unto Death
        Nor altars builded to Oblivion.

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