Shades of Stories, Shards of Time
by Sophia the Scribe

When I was young I traveled round the world,
As all adventurers are wont to do,
And noticed a most curious occurrence
That, as I went, still curiouser grew.

In London as I hailed a passing taxi
And glanced around to see whom I might meet,
I saw a ghostly man and his companion
Command a ghostly cabby, "Baker Street!"

I stood and marveled at the Colosseum,
Still more at what I seemed alone to hear—
The cheering crowds, the roaring of the lions,
And witnesses who perished without fear.

On Normandy the silenced guns were pounding
As dogfights long-complete raged overhead;
Within the forests echoed satyrs' dancing
And revelers that, 'ere I found them, fled.

I'm sure I saw a flash of Lincoln colors
And heard afar a never-ending duel;
Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms still write their music;
The shadowy knights await King Arthur's rule.

Upon a tower no one else could enter,
Within a city no one else could see,
I heard the chink and clang of silver armor
And saw the branches of a withered tree.

The North Wind's voice to my ear was not silent,
The Wardrobe's door to my hand was not drawn,
And in the next room of an English mansion
Elizabeth and Darcy bantered on.

I glimpsed a red-haired family disappearing
From King's Cross station in the school-time crowd;
I heard the ring of Reformation's hammer
And saw the German princes as they bowed.

The Scarlet Pimpernel is still elusive,
And Miss Clavel still runs the boarding-school;
Each Jew the Ten Booms hid still lives in safety;
The fleas still play each guardsman for a fool.

I travelled South and crossed an endless desert,
And East, and saw the dust of Mongol hordes,
And many times I heard the noise of battle
And, passing, saw the flashing glint of swords.

The Rostov home for wounded men is open,
The Red Sea still is parted shore-to-shore,
The Flying Dutchman never rounds the headlands,
And Krakow's trumpet sounds forevermore.

I noted, 'mid the Transylvanian snowfall,
The faithful band that wrought the Count's defeat;
At Salamis I heard the battle-clamor
As stalwart Greeks destroyed the Persian fleet.

I stood among the storied Trojan ruins
And saw encamped the great Achaean throng;
I sailed afar and heard the echoing cannons
And, deadly-sweet, the lure of siren-song.

Within the sea the Nautilus still wanders,
And Moby-Dick evades grim Ahab's wrath;
Upon the ships toward Ellis Island's welcome
So many take the Lady's torch-lit path.

The Indians and Pilgrims are yet feasting,
And Daniel Boone still guards Kentucky's folk;
I saw the slaves rejoice in rightful freedom;
In Gettysburg I smelt the acrid smoke.

The steel-boats still motor down to Cleveland;
In Kitty Hawk the pilot craft still flies;
Within the stormy clouds I heard the voices
Of ghostly cowboys riding through the skies.

I laughed at Anne and Gilbert as they argued;
I saw the Forty-Niners pan for gold;
The loyal pets are ever on their journey,
The sunken submarines still on patrol.

I stood upon the crossroads of a ghost town
And thought I heard the sounds of settlers' lives;
I saw a man on lonely sagebrush ridges
And smiled that even now the Ranger rides.

Above I heard the migrant swans a-calling
And thought I caught a glimpse of glinting brass;
From East to West through wild, lonely country
I saw the shadowy Expedition pass.

I roamed the Rockies as the misty twilight
Made timbered valleys seem but passing myths
And saw afar a stern and weathered figure—
For Jeremiah Johnson ever lives.

Across the plains the prairie schooners sailing
Dissolve into the mist as they go past,
And down among the icy breakers rolling
Each dauntless captain rounds the Horn at last.

At Panama's Canal I saw the swamp-land
That, drained, so lessened sickness and its price;
When ice-bound in the cruel Antarctic waters
I sought, and heard, brave Shackleton's advice.

I twice descried on lonely islands outposts
Where Crusoe or the Robinsons hold fort;
The aircraft carriers are ever absent
From Pearl Harbor's much-imperiled port.

Upon Japan the Air Corps still drops surplus
For liberated prisoners of war;
And once, among the thunder-clouds a-churning
I saw the regal phantom dragons soar.

I glimpsed, beyond the sunlight's glare, a soldier
Forever watchful, manning the Great Wall;
The sight of caravans of silks and spices
In drifting desert sand I yet recall.

The Phoenix ever rises from the ashes;
Young Mowgli still is fostered by the wolves;
The Orient Express is yet a crime-scene:
Poirot that strangely guiltless murder solves.

The motley escapees still cross the Gobi,
And Hillary still stands on Everest;
Good Amy Carmichael still helps the children;
I saw the Ark upon the mountain rest.

I saw the Fertile Crescent in its zenith
Still fixed as the proud crossroads of the land,
Admired Babylon's great Hanging Gardens,
And heard the still, small voice in Sinai's sand.

I watched the shepherd boy defeat Goliath,
On Carmel saw the heavenly fire descend;
I heard the echoes of the Hebrew trumpets,
Saw Jacob's Ladder to the Throne ascend.

Afar I heard—it set my spirit longing—
The angels sing of glory and of peace;
I saw the healing, cleansing, and forgiving,
Partook of that divine and wondrous feast.

Then up to David's Citadel I travelled;
I heard the cheers, the strife, the treachery;
And, with the awed centurion confessing,
I witnessed Jesus' death on Calvary.

I felt the tremors, saw the daylight darkened,
And knew, and prayed, and hoped outside the grave;
And at the dawn the seal of death was broken—
The King, triumphant, rose, my life to save.

And then I saw what gift I had been given
The glimpses I had heard, and seen, and known:
And should I live until this world's ending
I never shall forget what I was shown.