The gods in their slumber

The gods in their slumber

It seems they lay down, the gods,
Wrapped in one another’s arms,
Pillowing on mosses whose soft coolth
Soothed them into sleep
In the still shade at noon.

Countless snows and rains have fallen
The warmth of springtime countless times
Has called forth ferns and flowers
And yet the gods dream on;
And will not waken.

I see them sleeping even now,
Resting in the rising tide of green.
I see and wonder when the sun’s bold heat
Will wake them, or if perhaps this hand of mine
With its most feeble flutter of warmth
Placed here upon a shoulder
Might not rouse them.