By Franz Klein
In frozen silence a chord strikes
Gong-like twelve, and sound
Echoing reechoes in undulating
Waves in silence
Silent no more.
Waves whelm the sand
With pendual regularity,
By stricken cord retracted
With sucking hiss,
A sound in silence.
In time marches on the Master
Of an army of Hosts arrayed
In glittering-gold monstration,
God-with-us-on-the-shore,
Emmanuel.
O come, Divine Messiah
Into time immemorialized
By the striking of a gong
Transmitted with a hiss,
The static of souls lost
In shifting sand, descendants
numerous upon the shore
Amassed silent, at frozen midnight,
For wave-strike tsunamic, awaiting
Gloria in excelsis Deo.
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