THE CITIES OF THE PLAIN

John Greenleaf Whittier

This Document is on The Quaker Writings Home Page.

"Get ye up from the wrath of God's
    terrible day!
Ungirded, unsandalled, arise and
    away!
'T is the vintage of blood, 't is the
    fullness of time,
And vengeance shall gather the harvest
    of crime!

The warning was spoken - the
    righteous had gone,
And the proud ones of Sodom were
    feasting alone;
All gay was the banquet - the revel
    was long,
With the pouring of wine and the
    breathing of song.

'T was an evening of beauty; the air
    was perfume,
The earth was all greenness, the trees
    were all bloom;
And softly the delicate viol was
    heard,
Like the murmur of love or the notes
    of a bird.

And beautiful maidens moved down in
    the dance,
With the magic of motion and sunshine
    of glance;
And white arms wreathed lightly, and
    tresses fell free
As the plumage of birds in some
    tropical tree.

Where the shrines of foul idols were
    lighted on high,
And wantonness tempted the lust of
    the eye;
Midst rites of obsceneness, strange,
    loathsome, abhorred,
The blasphemer scoffed at the name 
    of the Lord.

Hark! the growl of the thunder, -
    the quaking of earth!
Woe, woe to the worship, and woe to
    the mirth!
The black sky has opened; there's
    flame in the air;
The red arm of vengeance is lifted and
    bare!

Then the shriek of the dying rose wild
   where the song
And the low tone of love had been
    whispered along;
For the fierce flames went lightly o'er
    palace and bower,
Like the red tongues of demons, to
    blast and devour!

Down, down on the fallen the red ruin
    rained,
And the reveller sank with his winecup
    undrained;
The foot of the dance, the music's
    loved thrill,
And the shout of the laughter grew
    suddenly still.

The last throb of anguish was fearfully
    given;
The last eye glared forth in its
    madness of Heaven!
The last groan of horror rose wildly
    and vain,
And death brooded over the pride of
    the Plain!