As from far off I darkly saw: I lay as doomed men lie: A lamb beneath a lion's paw, Mute-meek, that lamb was I; My soul I felt the monster gnaw, I heard my body die.
And, dumbly, 'thwart a dreader deep I drifted, as on awful sleep, Where sorrows burn, and never weep ...
Delirium reigned. Fell darkness dire, Vague terror, shapeless dole.
Forever climbing ghats of fire I struggled to a goal Where, lone upon the suttee pyre, I saw my life's long-lost desire-- The widow of my soul!
Far and far through smoke-red light I saw her beckoning stand; Anon, like a burning bird in fright, She fled with a shriek through the lurid night, And I wailed like a lost soul banned; And an echo flew like an anguished sprite And wailed in a hollow land.
Then utter loss: and there was nought.
My sentience wholly sped: No sound, no feeling, sight, or thought: Yet I knew with a vacuous dread I lay a thing by God unsought,-- Dead, dead,--for ever dead ...
Slow ages seemed to have their will: And, moving toward the prime, Th' Eternal Immanency still Breathed in the senseless lime, Till a dead thing felt the procreant thrill, And shuddered back to time.
It might have been ten thousand years That over me had run; It might have been ten thousand years I had not sensed the sun.-- Oh God, how much of sin that sears, How many, many bitter years Till soul from dust be won?
Oh Lord of Light, make sweet their tears Who never see the sun!-- ...
Mean as the dust, through the volant vast Flung like chaff, as ashes cast To the nether storms, I sank, pride past, On the waiting wings of the First and Last ...
Slowly, slowly came the grey Where all was dark before.
Some monster left its mangled prey Because the night was o'er: And, sick beside an Indian shore, I knew that it was day--
And strangely cared. Some cloudy pain Seemed from my being rolled.
Afar upon a misty plain The grey was turning gold.
I slept, and dreamt of rustling rain On leaves in summers old.
And faintly in my dream the corn Shook under English skies; To wreathe with silvery song the morn I saw the laverock rise; And I saw the Dead by a snow-white thorn, Touched with the blush of a mounting morn, Singing in paradise; And a seraph blew on a golden horn; And I saw with a mild surmise
White shapes pass panoplied from war In fields to sense unknown; And over them a targe-like star Blazed in its heaven alone; And a chant of joy was blown afar; And a soul-name rang 'neath that blinding star, Which deep in a world crepuscular My spirit knew for its own.
Then I turned, for the star-gleam dazzled my eyes, And woke with a glad surprise!--
Woke with the earth-breath on my face.
The sunbeams filtered through A tamarind in a stilly place; I saw the brazen blue: And suddenly Christ's healing grace Fell round like holy dew.
And kindly faces passed and smiled; And gentle voices spoke; And, wondering like a waking child, The night within me broke, And from a heart grown reconciled Went heavenward like thin smoke.
On all the bounds of ranging sight The lifting gloom was riven.
The terrors of abysmal night Fled like hushed horrors fly from light By dawn's winged horsemen driven.
On the drifting hills of morn shone bright The gonfalons of heaven.
Warm winds from palm-hung pleasances Came through the lattice bars With scents and murmurous harmonies; Like splintered scimitars The moonbeams through the banyan trees Gleamed under Indian stars.
And far away, and far away My heart went out forlorn; 'Mid benizons from far away I felt my soul reborn; And man from every palm-fringed bay And mountain town where sunsets stay, From sounding cities smoking grey Called, called me down the morn ...
O magic of the morning sky!
O wonder of the moonlit sea!
O life--the vision and the cry Into eternity!-- Eternity beneath, on high, Veiled within cloud and clod, That life in folly would vainly fly Through the nethermost deep, through the uttermost high,-- Life that is God-doomed never to die To the agony of God.
Too long to self my life had given What was for soul alone; To rob the sanctuaries had striven To build a lone love's throne.
In vain we prop each little heaven While men's souls turn to stone.
The good in ill let no man scorn; The ill in good let all men find.
Our knowledge is the lesser morn; Large night with stars behind Shews most. Of spirit still is born All life, all wonder; it shall bind All hearts in wisdom. Unforlorn He lives in deserts, though he mourn, Who loveth all the Kind ...
With storm gone by, from jeopardy, With loss for gain, and blindness past, Home to divine reality The tides have borne me,--home at last.
Time like a silver flower doth blow And blossom o'er a subtler sod, And through the meads of light I go Beneath the golden boughs of God ...
My soul hath won to the city of love With the burnished walls of the dreams' desires; And my life is glad as a glittering dove That coos in the sun upon golden spires; And I welcome the winds of the world, and move To the music of unseen choirs.
Great powers are for us; mighty wings Toward man's proud peril speed.
Life nourished at eternal springs, Beats up through star and creed, Till soul, ascendant, fetter-freed, A soaring seraph sings!...
On the rim of the world is a rosy tower Sky-poised above wide sea-foam, Where a beautiful spirit waits hour by hour, Far-eyed 'gainst a dawn like a phantom flower, Till a ghostly lover comes home ...
Ah! love is as lust till it count love lost; The soul is as sin till it weep sin's cost; O, happy is he, though he suffer most, Who wins to the Holy Ghost!
So spake old Iolaus. There That drifting, chant-like monody, Its eerie passion, weird despair, Had wrought on me like wizardry;-- Withal he moved through strange eclipse With God's faint finger at his lips, And with such tense and far surprise, That half uncanny seemed the man With cloudy hair, in human guise, So warped with age, so weirdly wan, Whose dry flesh into spirit ran, And saw with ghostly eyes.
THE RETURN
(To E.W.)
Home, O most pale adventurer, are you bound From that strange kingdom where no love may trace The life it loves to its abiding place, Or hail it from afar with cheerful sound.
From deeps whose marges mortal ne'er hath found You steal, and we are awed before your face-- For you are weird with wonder, with the grace Of death's most delicate lilies are you crowned.
After the ranging sunset of Farewell-- When life's loved country fades, and hope is lorn, Is it not fair from that dim, tideless bourn To drift back home to man's own star and dwell Fondly with time, in tune with bud and bell, With midnight's shimmer of stars and the sheen of morn?
THE SOUL AND THE SEA
I hear the shouting of th' exultant sea, Its reel and crash along the shuddering strand; Through muffling mist the wide reverberant land In thunderous labour laughs exultantly; The wrestling wind's tumultuous revelry Whips into whirling clouds the blanched sea-sand; The primal powers in grim convulsion grand Strive, straining agonists, frenzied to be free.
And in the lapses of the roaring gale I hear the cries of lives that rage and weep, That sow for ever, and that never reap; Brave hearts that travail with all hopes that fail Break with the breakers; with a wandering wail Flies sorrow with white lips along the deep.
NATIONS ESTRANGED
THE VOICE OF THE MILLIONS