The Passing Show poem – Ambrose Bierce poems | Poems and Poetry

I

I know not if it was a dream. I viewed

A city where the restless multitude,

Between the eastern and the western deep

Had reared gigantic fabrics, strong and rude.

Colossal palaces crowned every height;

Towers from valleys climbed into the light;

O’er dwellings at their feet, great golden domes

Hung in the blue, barbarically bright.

But now, new-glimmering to-east, the day

Touched the black masses with a grace of gray,

Dim spires of temples to the nation’s God

Studding high spaces of the wide survey.

Well did the roofs their solemn secret keep

Of life and death stayed by the truce of sleep,

Yet whispered of an hour when sleepers wake,

The fool to hope afresh, the wise to weep.

The gardens greened upon the builded hills

Above the tethered thunders of the mills

With sleeping wheels unstirred to service yet

By the tamed torrents and the quickened rills.

A hewn acclivity, reprieved a space,

Looked on the builder’s blocks about his base

And bared his wounded breast in sign to say:

“Strike! ’tis my destiny to lodge your race.

“‘Twas but a breath ago the mammoth browsed

Upon my slopes, and in my caves I housed

Your shaggy fathers in their nakedness,

While on their foemen’s offal they caroused.”

Ships from afar afforested the bay.

Within their huge and chambered bodies lay

The wealth of continents; and merrily sailed

The hardy argosies to far Cathay.

Beside the city of the living spread-

Strange fellowship!-the city of the dead;

And much I wondered what its humble folk,

To see how bravely they were housed, had said.

Noting how firm their habitations stood,

Broad-based and free of perishable wood-

How deep in granite and how high in brass

The names were wrought of eminent and good,

I said: “When gold or power is their aim,

The smile of beauty or the wage of shame,

Men dwell in cities; to this place they fare

When they would conquer an abiding fame.”

From the red East the sun-a solemn rite-

Crowned with a flame the cross upon a height

Above the dead; and then with all his strength

Struck the great city all aroar with light!

II

I know not if it was a dream. I came

Unto a land where something seemed the same

That I had known as ’twere but yesterday,

But what it was I could not rightly name.

It was a strange and melancholy land,

Silent and desolate. On either hand

Lay waters of a sea that seemed as dead,

And dead above it seemed the hills to stand.

Grayed all with age, those lonely hills-ah me,

How worn and weary they appeared to be!

Between their feet long dusty fissures clove

The plain in aimless windings to the sea.

One hill there was which, parted from the rest,

Stood where the eastern water curved a-west.

Silent and passionless it stood. I thought

I saw a scar upon its giant breast.

The sun with sullen and portentous gleam

Hung like a menace on the sea’s extreme;

Nor the dead waters, nor the far, bleak bars

Of cloud were conscious of his failing beam.

It was a dismal and a dreadful sight,

That desert in its cold, uncanny light;

No soul but I alone to mark the fear

And imminence of everlasting night!

All presages and prophecies of doom

Glimmered and babbled in the ghastly gloom,

And in the midst of that accursèd scene

A wolf sat howling on a broken tomb.