Part 11 (2/2)

And though, by thine alternate breath, Every kiss thou dost inspire Echoeth Back from the windy vaultages of death; Yet thy clear warranty above Augurs the wings of death too must Occult reverberations stir of love Crescent and life incredible; That even the kisses of the just Go down not unresurgent to the dust.

Yea, not a kiss which I have given, But shall triumph upon my lips in heaven, Or cling a shameful fungus there in h.e.l.l.

Know'st thou me not, O Sun? Yea, well Thou know'st the ancient miracle, The children know'st of Zeus and May; And still thou teachest them, O splendent Brother, To incarnate, the antique way, The truth which is their heritage from their Sire In sweet disguise of flesh from their sweet Mother.

My fingers thou hast taught to con Thy flame-chorded psalterion, Till I can translate into mortal wire-- Till I can translate pa.s.sing well-- The heavenly harping harmony, Melodious, sealed, inaudible, Which makes the dulcet psalter of the world's desire.

Thou whisperest in the Moon's white ear, And she does whisper into mine,-- By night together, I and she-- With her virgin voice divine, The things I cannot half so sweetly tell As she can sweetly speak, I sweetly hear.

By her, the Woman, does Earth live, O Lord, Yet she for Earth, and both in thee.

Light out of light!

Resplendent and prevailing Word Of the Unheard!

Not unto thee, great Image, not to thee Did the wise heathen bend an idle knee; And in an age of faith grown frore If I too shall adore, Be it accounted unto me, A bright sciential idolatry!

G.o.d has given thee visible thunders To utter thine apocalypse of wonders, And what want I of prophecy, That at the sounding from thy station Of thy flagrant trumpet, see The seals that melt, the open revelation?

Or who a G.o.d-persuading angel needs, That only heeds The rhetoric of thy burning deeds?

Which but to sing, if it may be, In wors.h.i.+p-warranting moiety, So I would win In such a song as hath within A smouldering core of mystery, Brimmed with nimbler meanings up Than hasty Gideons in their hands may sup;-- Lo, my suit pleads That thou, Isaian coal of fire, Touch from yon altar my poor mouth's desire, And the relucent song take for thy sacred meeds.

To thine own shape Thou round'st the chrysolite of the grape, Bind'st thy gold lightnings in his veins; Thou storest the white garners of the rains.

Destroyer and preserver, thou Who medicinest sickness, and to health Art the unthanked marrow of its wealth; To those apparent sovereignties we bow And bright appurtenances of thy brow!

Thy proper blood dost thou not give, That Earth, the gusty Maenad, drink and dance?

Art thou not life of them that live?

Yea, in glad twinkling advent, thou dost dwell Within our body as a tabernacle!

Thou bittest with thine ordinance The jaws of Time, and thou dost mete The unsustainable treading of his feet.

Thou to thy spousal universe Art Husband, she thy Wife and Church; Who in most dusk and vidual curch, Her Lord being hence, Keeps her cold sorrows by thy hea.r.s.e.

The heavens renew their innocence And morning state But by thy sacrament communicate; Their weeping night the symbol of our prayers, Our darkened search, And sinful vigil desolate.

Yea, biune in imploring dumb, Essential Heavens and corporal Earth await; The Spirit and the Bride say: Come!

Lo, of thy Magians I the least Haste with my gold, my incenses and myrrhs, To thy desired epiphany, from the spiced Regions and odorous of Song's traded East.

Thou, for the life of all that live The victim daily born and sacrificed; To whom the pinion of this longing verse Beats but with fire which first thyself did give, To thee, O Sun--or is 't perchance, to Christ?

Ay, if men say that on all high heaven's face The saintly signs I trace Which round my stoled altars hold their solemn place, Amen, amen! For oh, how could it be,-- When I with winged feet had run Through all the windy earth about, Quested its secret of the sun, And heard what thing the stars together shout,-- I should not heed thereout Consenting counsel won:-- ”By this, O Singer, know we if thou see.

When men shall say to thee: Lo! Christ is here, When men shall say to thee: Lo! Christ is there, Believe them: yea, and this--then art thou seer, When all thy crying clear Is but: Lo here! lo there!--ah me, lo everywhere!”

[C] The Earth.

_From_ ”FROM THE NIGHT OF FOREBEING”

AN ODE AFTER EASTER

Cast wide the folding doorways of the East, For now is light increased!

And the wind-besomed chambers of the air, See they be garnished fair; And look the ways exhale some precious odours, And set ye all about wild-breathing spice, Most fit for Paradise.

Now is no time for sober gravity, Season enough has Nature to be wise; But now distinct, with raiment glittering free, Shake she the ringing rafters of the skies With festal footing and bold joyance sweet, And let the earth be drunken and carouse!

For lo, into her house Spring is come home with her world-wandering feet, And all things are made young with young desires; And all for her is light increased In yellow stars and yellow daffodils, And East to West, and West to East, Fling answering welcome-fires, By dawn and day-fall, on the jocund hills.

And ye, winged minstrels of her fair meinie, Being newly coated in glad livery, Upon her steps attend, And round her treading dance and without end Reel your shrill lutany.

What popular breath her coming does out-tell The garrulous leaves among!

What little noises stir and pa.s.s From blade to blade along the voluble gra.s.s!

O Nature, never-done Ungaped-at Pentecostal miracle, We hear thee, each man in his proper tongue!

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