Sweet Poesy, She Liveth

By George Sterling

In that undying garden of the years,
Sweet poesy, she liveth, and her
    breath,
Like winds a-whisper with a league
    of rose,
Is fragrance of its flower, she lying
    pent
Within the web and mystery of words.
Those films of song that of man's
    victories
Longest endure, outliving tower or
    dome
Of clasped marble. Not in vain her
    spell
Hath fallen upon the poets: Keats
    outsang
His tender nightingale; and hearken
    Poe,
So sweeter than his bells! . . .

~George Sterling, Christian Science Monitor, Jan 25th, 1921, pg 13

Bibliography Entry