Part 10 (1/2)

The true stars came to their stations in heaven, The false stars s.h.i.+vered deep down in the sea, And the white crests went like monsters, driven By winds that never would let them be,

And there, where the elements mingled and muttered, We stood, each man with a lone dumb heart, Full of the vastness that never was uttered By symbol of words or by echo of art.

L'envoi

G.o.d willed, who never needed speech, ”Let all things be:”

And, lo, the starry firmament And land and sea And his first thought of life that lives In you and me.

His circle of eternity We see in part; Our spirits are his breath, our hearts Beat from his heart; Hence we have played as little G.o.ds And called it art.

Lacking his power, we shared his dream Of perfect things; Between the tents of hope and sweet Rememberings Have sat in ashes, but our souls Went forth on wings.

Where life fell short of some desire In you and me, Feeling for beauty which our eyes Could never see, Behold, from out the void we willed That it should be,

And sometimes dreamed our lisping songs Of humanhood Might voice his silent harmony Of waste and wood, And he, beholding his and ours, Might find it good.

[End of original text.]

Notes:

John Charles McNeill was born in Scotland County, near Laurinburg, North Carolina, on 26 July 1874, and died on 17 October 1907 (when he was 33 years old). He only produced this one volume before he died, though he planned a second, which was published posthumously. ”Songs, Merry and Sad”, first published in Charlotte in 1906, went through at least five printings over more than 60 years. (This text is taken from the very first edition.)

Both of McNeill's grandfathers came from Scotland.