Explore "Of Heaven Considered as a Tomb" by Wallace Stevens on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
What word have you, interpreters, of men / Who in the tomb of heaven walk by night, / The darkened ghosts of our old comedy? / Do they believe they range the gusty cold, / With lanterns borne aloft to light the way, / Freemen of death, about and still about / To find whatever it is they seek? Or does / That burial, pillared up each day as porte / And spiritous passage into nothingness, / Foretell each night the one abysmal night, / When the host shall no more wander, nor the light / Of the steadfast lanterns creep across the dark? / Make hue among the dark comedians, / Halloo them in the topmost distances / For answer from their icy Elysée.