| Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869–1935). Collected Poems. 1921. |
| |
| VIII. Avon’s Harvest, Etc. |
| 14. Many Are Called |
| |
| THE LORD APOLLO, who has never died, | |
| Still holds alone his immemorial reign, | |
| Supreme in an impregnable domain | |
| That with his magic he has fortified; | |
| And though melodious multitudes have tried | 5 |
| In ecstasy, in anguish, and in vain, | |
| With invocation sacred and profane | |
| To lure him, even the loudest are outside. | |
| |
| Only at unconjectured intervals, | |
| By will of him on whom no man may gaze, | 10 |
| By word of him whose law no man has read, | |
| A questing light may rift the sullen walls, | |
| To cling where mostly its infrequent rays | |
| Fall golden on the patience of the dead. | |
|
|
