Discover the Enchanting World of George Essex Evans' 'The Secret Key' 🔑

There is a magic kingdom of strange powers, <br />Thought-hidden, lit by other stars than ours; <br />And, when a wanderer through its mazes brings <br />Word of things seen, men say: “A poet sings.” <br />Its gates are guarded in a sterile land— <br />Mountain and deep morass, and shifting sand; <br />Storm-barred are they, and may not opened be <br />Save by the hand that finds the secret key. <br />That key, some say, lies in the sunset glow, <br />Or the white arc of dawn, or where the flow <br />Of some lone river stems the shoreward wave <br />In shuddering silver on its ocean grave. <br />Some say that when the wind wars with the sea, <br />In that stern music, one may find the key; <br />Or, in green glooms of forests, where the pine <br />Uplifts her spear amid great wreaths of vine; <br />Or, where the streaming mist’s white rollers climb <br />The dark ravine and precipice sublime— <br />A filmy sea that twines and intertwines <br />Wreathes the low hills, and veils the mighty lines <br />Of sovran mountains, crimsoned and aglow <br />In crystal pomp, crested with jewelled snow; <br />But still, with souls afire, men seek that land, <br />And die in deep morass and shifting sand. <br />To those alone its iron gates are free, <br />Who find, within their hearts, the secret key; <br />For Earth, with all the colour of her day, <br />Is not their country—that lies far away.<br /><br />George Essex Evans<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-secret-key-2/