You, Andrew Marvell

    And here face down beneath the sun
    Here upon Earth’s noonward height
    To feel the always coming on
    The always rising of the night:

    To feel creep up the curving East
    The earthy chill of dusk and slow
    upon those underlands the vast
    And ever climbing shadow grow

    And strange at Ecbatan the trees
    Take leaf by leaf the evening strange
    The flooding dark about their knees
    The mountains over Persia change

    And now at Kermanshah the gate
    Dark empty and the withered grass
    And through the twilight now the late
    Few travellers in the Westward pass

    And Baghdad darken and the bridge
    Across the silent river gone
    And through Arabia the edge
    of evening widen and steal on

    And deepen in Palmyra’s street
    The wheel-rut in the ruined stone
    And Lebanon fade out and Crete
    High through the clouds and overblown

    And over Sicily the air
    Still flashing with the landward gulls
    And loom and slowly disappear
    The sails above the shadowy hulls

    And Spain go under and the shore
    Of Africa the gilded sand
    And evening vanish and no more
    The low pale light across that land

    Nor now the long light on the sea:
    And here face downward in the sun
    To feel how swift how secretly
    The shadow of the night comes on…

    — Archibald MacLeish


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