Arthur Upson
American poet
Arthur Wheelock Upson (10 January 1877 – 14 August 1908) was an American poet.
Quotes edit
Poetry edit
- NIGHT-REFUGE, set aloft this travelled hill,
'Tis deemed by many a lodger but an inn;
Others look round them better and scarce fill
Their first cup ere its mystery doth begin,
And they are led by some divine desire,
Where, midmost of an inner room, there bends
Clear flame on golden altar, to which fire
A wide-eyed vestal changelessly attends.
And most, so led, have joy to serve that light
And with the jealous priestess vigil keep;
But woe to any wearying neophyte,
And woe to him who serves with eyes of sleep:
To such is she more bitter than to those
On whom, unlit, her doors forever close! - Friend of my heart! Among the Autumn trees
We walk together baring thought to thought
Of this vast symbol-earth wherein lie wrought
Hints of immortal dreams and destinies!
And you and I are part of all of these!
Ourselves mysterious emblems, tones half-caught
From voices far, wherein our souls have sought
Deep meanings, silent, 'mid's melodies.
