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Volcano Poems

Table of Contents

  1. Volcano by Hilda Conklingn
  2. Reticence by Emily Dickinson
  3. The Heart of Fire by Walter Kemper Bocock

  1. Volcano

    by Hilda Conkling

    In Mexico a mountain stands alone.
    It looms above me . . . a joy strikes my heart;
    I see its transparent colors, its long opal hair . . .
    But the moon would make it shine
    A heap of silver.
    My thoughts are gone from me
    Because of that splendid trembling iridescent thing . . .
    I know it will fade,
    I know it must go.
    Songs float over its crest . . .
    Dusk is coming on . . .
    I will touch the mountain!
    My fingers touch air.
    The broad bright country sways in folds
    Like long slow waves . . .
    If all the hills were water rising and falling
    This would be the highest wave,
    This would be the white-hooded wave,
    This would be the great wave for sea-gulls to follow!

  2. Reticence

    by Emily Dickinson

    The reticent volcano keeps
    His never slumbering plan;
    Confided are his projects pink
    To no precarious man.

    If nature will not tell the tale
    Jehovah told to her,
    Can human nature not survive
    Without a listener?

    Admonished by her buckled lips
    Let every babbler be.
    The only secret people keep
    Is Immortality.

  3. The Heart of Fire

    by Walter Kemper Bocock

    Spoke the Volcano:
    "The curse is upon me!
    Once I was glorious,
    Bathed in the sunlight;
    Storms were below me;
    Peaceful my summit.
    Thousands ascended,
    Craving the vision
    Which I could show them.
    Millions admired me,
    On their horizon.

    "Now the foundations
    Tremble below me.
    Earth is unsettled;
    Hell's fiends are raging
    Penned in my bosom.
    Heaven is hidden by
    Terrible darkness.
    There is no firmament;
    Day is abolished.
    Midnight is starless,
    Save when the tempest
    Bursts from Inferno,
    Showering the world with
    Firebrands and lava,
    All of my verdure
    —Flowers and forests—
    Burning to blackness;
    Leaving me hideous,
    Desolate, barren!"

    Slept the volcano
    Ages and ages. Sunshine was bathing
    All of his landscapes. Higher his summit;
    Precious the metals Mined from his bosom;
    Green were the forests, Fair were the flowers,
    Healthgiving waters Flowed from his fountains.
    Said the Great Spirit: "Heaven surrounds thee!
    Hell that o'erwhelmed thee Was of thy making."

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