SEREIN

Naught could soothe this cumbrous

grey, nor quell its sepulchral

rumbling; a darker storm than the

darkest night rains colours 

of the world of man. Frozen breath,

pitiless heart, obsidian obliquity, 

batter palaces and fields of blood, 

drown the golden calf, 

rend the gilded altar raised by one 

whose infants perished in the

shadows of plenty.

Nor prince nor pauper shall these 

bleary cascades spare,

nor shall the skies weary of blackest

weeping, for Nature sheds

tears for the helpless and hunted, 

for the beaten and bereft.

Dolour of infant souls in ascension

merges with the tide

as the anguish of a riven Earth, 

fretting ragged shores with

fulminating frenzy.

Sole the prophet discerns a deathlike

stillness within the din.

Into its vastness the tumult fades, 

its distant, ringing echo 

more clamorous, broader, than its

Stygian presence. The Sun

forbears to shine this day, for all must

atone for Innocence profaned,

ere man may know the

serenity of a silent serein.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: THE STORM

Source: www.artscroll.ru

Artist: George Caleb Bingham