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Edwin Arlington Robinson - 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
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,
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. 

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Added: Jun 3 2005 | Viewed: 2891 times | Comments and analysis of Many Are Called by Edwin Arlington Robinson Comments (0)

Many Are Called - Comments and Information

Poet: Edwin Arlington Robinson
Poem: Many Are Called
Poem of the Day: Jul 18 2011
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