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diff --git a/old/51346-0.txt b/old/51346-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 96c3966..0000000 --- a/old/51346-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2018 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Poem Outlines, by Sidney Lanier - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Poem Outlines - - -Author: Sidney Lanier - - - -Release Date: March 3, 2016 [eBook #51346] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEM OUTLINES*** - - -E-text prepared by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/poemoutlines00laniuoft - - -Transcriber's note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). - - - - - - - POEM OUTLINES - - - * * * * * * - - BOOKS BY SIDNEY LANIER - - - PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS - - =Poems.= Edited by his Wife, with a Memorial by WILLIAM HAYES $2.00 - WARD. With portrait. _New Edition._ 12mo - - =Select Poems of Sidney Lanier.= Edited, with an _net_ $1.00 - Introduction and Notes, by PROF. MORGAN CALLAWAY, JR., - University of Texas. 12mo - - =Hymns of the Marshes.= With 12 full-page illustrations, _net_ $2.00 - photogravure frontispiece, and head and tail pieces. - (_Oct._) 8vo (_Postage Extra_) - - =Bob.= The Story of Our Mocking Bird. With 16 full-page _net_ $1.00 - illustrations in colors from photographs by A. R. - DUGMORE. _New and Cheaper Edition._ 12mo. - - =Letters of Sidney Lanier.= Selections from his Correspondence, $2.00 - 1866-1881. With two portraits in photogravure. 12mo - - =Retrospects and Prospects.= Descriptive and Historical Essays. $1.50 - 12mo - - =Music and Poetry.= A Volume of Essays. 12mo $1.50 - - =The English Novel.= A Study in the Development of Personality. $2.00 - _New and Revised Edition from New Plates._ Crown 8vo - - =The Science of English Verse.= Crown 8vo $2.00 - - =The Lanier Book.= Selections for School Reading. Edited _net_ $0.50 - and arranged by MARY E. BURT, in coöperation with Mrs. - LANIER. Illustrated. (_Scribner Series of School - Reading._) 12mo - - - BOY'S LIBRARY OF LEGEND AND - CHIVALRY - - =The Boy's Froissart.= Illustrated. ALFRED KAPPES $2.00 - - =The Boy's King Arthur.= Illustrated $2.00 - - =Knightly Legends of Wales=; or, The Boy's Mabinogion. $2.00 - Illustrated - - =The Boy's Percy.= Illustrated $2.00 - - * * * * * * - - -POEM OUTLINES - -by - -SIDNEY LANIER - - _The Artist: he - Who lonesome walks amid a thousand friends._ - - - - - - - -New York -Charles Scribner's Sons -MDCCCCVIII - -Copyright, 1908, by Charles Scribner's Sons - -Published September, 1908 - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - NOTE - - -It requires but little intimacy with the true artist to see that, -whether his medium of expression be words or music or the brush, much of -his finest achievement can never be given to his fellows bearing the -stamp of perfect craftsmanship. As when the painter, with hand -momentarily inspired by the fervor of the eye, fixes in a sketch some -miracle of color or line, which vanishes with each succeeding stroke of -the brush laboring to embody it in a finished picture—so the poet may -transcribe one note of his own tense heart strings; may find fluttering -words that zigzag aerially beside the elusive new-born thought; may -strike out in the rough some heaven-scaling conception—to discover too -often that these priceless fragments cannot be fused again, cannot be -joined with commoner metals into a conventional quatrain or sonnet. - -At such moments, by some subtle necromancy of quivering genius, the poet -in his exaltation weaves sinuous words into a magic net with which he -snares at one cast the elfin woods fancies, the shy butterfly ideas that -flit across secluded glades of the imagination, invisible even to him at -other times; and there these delicate creatures lie, flashing forth from -the meshes glimpses of an unearthly brilliance—for all time, if he be -wise enough not to attempt to open the net and spread out their wings -for the world to see them better. Or it may be that his mood is -interrupted by the necessity for giving to the world that which it will -receive in exchange for a living, and his next vision is of a far -distant corner of the Enchanted Land. Yet these records are what they -are; they bear star dust upon their wings; they give, perhaps, his most -intimate revelation, his highest utterance. - -So the following outlines and fragments left by Sidney Lanier are -presented, in the belief that they contain the essence of poetry. His -mind budded into poems as naturally and inevitably as a tree puts forth -green leaves—and it was always spring-time there. These poem-sketches -were jotted in pencil on the backs of envelopes, on the margins of -musical programmes, on little torn scraps of paper, amid all sorts of -surroundings, whenever the dream came to him. Some are mere flashes of -simile in unrhymed couplets; others are definite rounded outlines, -instinct with the beauty of idea, but not yet hewn to the line of -perfect form; one, at least, is the beginning of quite a long narrative -in verse. There are indications of more than one projected volume of -poems, as mentioned in foot-notes. All have been selected from his -papers as containing something worthy of preservation; and, while the -thought sometimes parallels that in his published work, all are -essentially new. - - H. W. L. - - NEW YORK, _September_, 1908. - - - - -Are ye so sharp set for the centre of the earth, are ye so hungry for -the centre of things, - -O rains and springs and rivers of the mountains? - -Towards the centre of the earth, towards the very Middle of things, ye -will fall, ye will run, the Centre will draw ye, Gravity will drive you -and draw you in one: - -But the Centre ye will not reach, ye will come as near as the -plains—watering them in coming so near—and ye will come as near as the -bottom of the Ocean—seeing and working many marvels as ye come so near. - -But the Centre of Things ye will not reach, - -O my rivers and rains and springs of the mountains. - -Provision is made that ye shall not: ye would be merged, ye could not -return. - -Nor shall my Soul be merged in God, though tending, though tending. - - [_Hymns of the Mountains,_ - _and Other Poems_] - - - - -To believe in God would be much less hard if it were not for the wind. -Pray hold one little minute, I cry: O spare this once to bite yonder -poor old shivering soul in the bare house, let the rags have but a -little chance to warm yon woman round the city corner. Stop, stop, wind: -but I might as well talk to the wind: and lo, the proverb paralyzes -prayer, and I am ready to say: Good God, is it possible thou canst stop -this wind which at this moment is mocking ten thousand babies and -thin-clad mothers with the unimaginable anguish of cold—is it possible -thou canst stop this, and wilt not? Do you know what cold is? Story of -the Prisoner, &c., &c., and the stone. - - - - -The courses of the wind, and the shifts thereof, as also what way the -clouds go; and that which is happening a long way off; and the full face -of the sun; and the bow of the Milky Way from end to end; as also the -small, the life of the fiddler-crab, and the household of the marsh-hen; -and more, the translation of black ooze into green blade of marsh-grass, -which is as if filth bred heaven: - -This a man seeth upon the marsh. - - [_Hymns of the Marshes_] - - - - - I wish, said the poet, that you should do thus and so: - Laugh you thus, what matters a poet's wish? - The poet's wish is Nature's law. - It is for the satisfaction thereof that things are, - And that Time moves. - Observe Science in modern times proving the old poet's dreams. - - Nature with all her train of powers - And Time with his ordered hours, - And Space, ... and said, - What dost thou wish, my lord? - - [_Credo, and Other Poems_] - - - - - How dusty it is! - In trades and creeds and politics, much wind is about and the earth is - dry; - I must lay this dust, that men may see and breathe; - There is need of rain, and I am it. - - [_Credo, and Other Poems_] - - - - - THE DYSPEPTIC - - - _Frown_, quoth my lord Stomach, - And I lowered. - _Quarrel_, quoth my lord Liver, - And I lashed my wife and children, - Till at the breakfast-table - Hell sat laughing on the egg-cup. - _Lie awake all night_, quoth my two Masters, - And I tossed, and swore, and beat the pillow, - And kicked with disgust, - And slammed every door tight that leads to sleep and heaven. - - [_Credo, and Other Poems_] - - - - - Foul Past, as my Master I scorn thee, - As my servant I love thee, dear Past. - - - - -One of your cold jelly-fish poets that find themselves cast up by some -wave upon a sandy subject, and so wrinkle themselves about a pebble of a -theme and let us see it through their substance—as if that were a great -feat. - - - - - Cousin cloud - the wind of music - blow me into wreath - and curve of grace - as it bloweth thee. - - - - - And then - A gentle violin mated with the flute, - And both flew off into a wood of harmony, - Two doves of tone. - - - - -I have great trouble in behavior. I know what to do, I know what I at -heart desire to do; but the _doing_ of it, that is work, that labor is. -I construct in my lonesome meditations the fairest scheme of my -relations to my fellow-men, and to fellow-events; but when I go to set -the words of solitary thought to the music of much-crowded action, I -find ten thousand difficulties never suspected: difficulties of race, -temperament, mood, tradition, custom, passion, unreason and other -difficulties which I do not understand, as, for instance, the failure of -contemporary men to recognize genius and great art. - - - - - I made me a song of serenade, - And I stole in the Night, in the Night, - To the window of the world where man slept light, - And I sang: - O my Love, my Love, my Fellow Man, - My Love. - - - - -I fled in tears from the men's ungodly quarrel about God: I fled in -tears to the woods, and laid me down on the earth; then somewhat like -the beating of many hearts came up to me out of the ground, and I looked -and my cheek lay close by a violet; then my heart took courage and I -said: - - "I know that thou art the word of my God, dear Violet: - And Oh the ladder is not long that to my heaven leads. - Measure what space a violet stands above the ground, - 'Tis no farther climbing that my soul and angels have to do than that." - - [_Written on the fly-leaf of - Emerson's "Representative - Men," between 1874 and - 1879_] - - - - - While I lie here under the tree, - Comes a strange insect and poises an instant at my cheek, - And lays his antennæ there upon my skin, - Then perceiving that I have nothing of nutriment for him, - He leaves me with a quiet indifference which, do all I can, - Crushes me more than the whole world's sarcasm, - And now he is gone to the Jamestown weed, there, - And is rioting in sweetness. - - - - - I did not think so poorly of thee, dear Lord, - As that thou wouldst wait until thou wert asked - (As many think), - And that thou wouldst be ugly, like a society person, - Because thou wert not invited. - - [1881] - - - - - Tender wiles, transparent guiles, - Tears exhaling into smiles. - - - - -A man does not reach any stature of manhood until like Moses he kills an -Egyptian (_i. e._, murders some oppressive prejudice of the all-crushing -Tyrant Society or Custom or Orthodoxy) and flies into the desert of his -own soul, where among the rocks and sands, over which at any rate the -sun rises dear each day, he slowly and with great agony settles his -relation with men and manners and powers outside, and begins to look -with his own eyes, and first knows the unspeakable joy of the outcast's -kiss upon the hand of sweet, naked Truth. - -But let not the young man go to killing his Egyptian too soon: wait till -you know all the Egyptians can teach you: wait till you are master of -the technics of the time; then grave, and resolute, and aware of -consequences, shape your course. - - - - -Thought, too, is carnivorous. It lives on meat. We never have an idea -whose existence has not been purchased by the death of some atom of our -fleshy tissue. - -O little poem, thou goest from this brain chargeable with the death of -tissue that perished in order that thou mightst live: nourish some soul, -thou that hast been nourished on a human body. - - - - -Do you think the 19th century is past? It is but two years since Boston -burnt me for witchcraft. I wrote a poem which was not orthodox: that is, -not like Mr. Longfellow's. - - - - - All roads from childhood lead to hell, - Hell is but the smoke about the monstrous fires - Kindled from } - Rising from } frictions of youth's self with self, - Passion rubbed hard 'gainst Purpose, Heart 'gainst Brain. - - [1874-5] - - - - - Tolerance like a Harbor lay - Smooth and shining and secure, - Where ships carrying every flag of faith were anchored in peace. - - - - - TO THE POLITICIANS - - -You are servants. Your thoughts are the thoughts of cooks curious to -skim perquisites from every pan, your quarrels are the quarrels of -scullions who fight for the privilege of cleaning the pot with most -leavings in it, your committees sit upon the landings of backstairs, and -your quarrels are the quarrels of kitchens. - - [1878-9] - - - - -"The Earth?" quoth a Dandelion to my Oak, "what earth? where is any? I -float, and find none!" - -At that moment the wind blew. - -"Nevertheless, it is here," quoth my oak, with pleasure in all his -roots, what time the dandelion was blown out of hearing. - - - - - ORNAMENT BEFORE DRESS - - - Who doubts but Eve had a rose in her hair - Ere fig leaves fettered her limbs? - So Life wore poetry's perfect rose - Before 'twas clothed with economic prose. - Homer before Pherecydes, - Caedmon before Alfred. - - - - -Every rule is a sign of weakness. A man needs no rules to make him eat, -when he is hungry: and a law is a badge of disgrace. Yet we are able to -console ourselves, from points of view which terminate in duty, order, -and the like advantages. - - - - - How did'st thou win her, Death? - Thou art the only rival that ever made her cold to me. - Thou hast turned her cold to me. - - - - - _I went into the Church to find my Lord. - They said He is here, He lives here. - But I could not see Him, - For the creed-tablets and bonnet-flowers._ - -I went into the Church to look for a poor man. - -For the Lord has said that the Poor are his children, and I thought His -children would live in His house. - -But in the pews sat only Kings and Lords: at least all that sat there -were dressed like Kings and Lords; and I could not find the man I looked -for, who was in rags;—presently I saw the sexton refuse admission to a -man; lo, it was my poor man, he had on rags, and the sexton said, "No -ragged allowed." - - - - -O World, I wish there was room for a poet. In the time of David and of -Isaiah, in the time of John and of Homer, there was room for a poet. In -the time of Hyvernion and of Herve and of Omar Khayyam: in the time of -Shakspere, was room in the world for a poet. - - In the time of Keats there was not room: - Perhaps now there is not room. - - [1881] - - - - -In the lily, the sunset, the mountain, the rosy hues of all life, it is -easy to trace God. But it is in the dust that goes up from the unending -Battle of Things that we lose Him. Forever thro' the ferocities of -storms, the malice of the never-glutted oceans, the savagery of human -wars, the inexorable barbarities of accident, of earthquake and -mysterious Disease, one hears the voice of man crying, _where art thou, -my dear Lord and Master?_ - - - - -But oh, how can ye trifle away your time at trades and waste yourself in -men's commerce, when ye might be here in the woods at commerce with -great angels, all heaven at purchase for a song. - - - - - I will be the Terpander of sadness; - I will string the shell of slow time for a lyre, - The shell of Tortoise-creeping time, - Till grief grow music. - - - - - I am but a small-winged bird: - But I will conquer the big world - As the bee-martin beats the crow, - By attacking it always from Above. - - - - - Ah how I desire this matter! - I am sure God would give it to me if He could. - I am sure that I would give it to Him if I could. - (But perhaps He knows it is not good for you.) - I know that He could make it good for me. - - - - -The United States in two hundred years has made Emerson out of a -witch-burner. - - - - - BEETHOVEN - - - The argument of music, - I heard thy plea, O friend; - Who might debate with thee? - - - - - Heart was a little child, cried for the moon, - Brain was a man, said, nay. - Science is big, and Time is a-throb, - Hold thy heart, Heart. - - - - - Wan Silence lying lip on ground, - An outcast Angel from the Heaven of sound, - Prone and desolate - By the shut Gate. - - - - -A poet is a perpetual Adam: events pass before him, like the animals in -the creation, and he names them. - - - - -"The Improvement of the Ground is the most Natural Obtaining of Riches: -For it is our Great Mother's Blessing, the Earth: But it is slow." - - [_Poems on Agriculture_] - - - - - How could I injure thee, - Thou art All and I am nought, - What harm, what harm could e'er be wrought - On thee by me? - - - - -Lo, he that hath helped me to do right (save by mere information upon -which I act or not, as I please) he hath not done me a favor: he hath -covertly hurt me: he hath insidiously deflowered the virginity of my -will; I am thenceforth not a pure Me: I am partly another. - -Each union of self and self is, once for all, incest and adultery and -every other crime. Let me alone. God made me so, a man, individual, -unit, whole, fully-appointed in myself. Again I cry to thee, O friend, -let me alone. - - - - -The church having become fashionable is now grown crowded, and the Age -will have to get up from its pew and go outside soon, if only for a -little fresh air. - - - - -You wish me to argue whether Paul had a revelation: I do not care -greatly; I have had none, but roses, trees, music, and a running stream, -and Sirius. - - [_Credo, and Other Poems_] - - - - -The sleep of each night is a confession of God. By whose will is it that -my heart beat, my lung rose and fell, my blood went with freight and -returned empty these eight hours? - -Not mine, not mine. - - - - - Like to the grasshopper in the tall grass, - That sings to the mate he cannot see yet while, - I sing to thee, dear World; - For thou art my Mate, and peradventure thou wilt come; I wish to see - thee. - Like to the lover under the window of his Love, - I serenade thee, dear World; - For thou art asleep and thou art my Love, - And perhaps thou wilt awake and show me thine eyes - And the beauty of thy face out of the window of thy house of Time. - - - - - So large, so blue is Harry's eye, - I think to that blue Heaven the souls do go - Of honest violets when they die. - - - - -Says Epictetus, at the close of his Chapter on Præcognitions: "I must -speak in this way; excuse me, as you would excuse lovers: I am not my -own master: I am mad." - - [_Credo, and Other Poems_] - - - - - —Great shame came upon me. - I wended my way to my own house - And I was sorrowful all that night, - For the touch of man had bruised my manhood, - And in playing to be wise and a judge before men, - I found me foolish and a criminal before myself. - - - - - If that the mountain-measured earth - Had thousand-fold his mighty girth, - One violet would avail the dust - For righteous pride and just. - Then why do ye prattle of promise, - And why do ye cry _this poet's young - And will give us more anon_? - - For he that hath written a song - Hath made life's clod a flower, - What question of short or long? - As the big earth is summed in a violet, - All Beauty may lie in a two-lined stave. - Let the clever ones write commentaries in verse. - As for us, we give you texts, - O World, we poets. - If you do not understand them now, - Behold, hereafter an army of commentators will come: - They will imitate, and explain it to you. - - - - - THE SONG OF ALDHELM - - - Come over the bridge, my merchants, - Come over the bridge, my souls: - For ye all are mine by the gift of God, - Ye belong to me by the right of my love, - I love - With a love that is father and mother to men, - Ye are all my children, merchants. - - _Merchant_: We have no time, we have no time to listen to idle dreams. - - _Aldhelm_: But I, poor Aldhelm, say you nay; - Till ye hear me, ye have no time - Neither for trade nor travelling; - Till ye hear me ye have no time to fight nor marry nor mourn; - There is not time, O World, - Till you hear me, the Poet Aldhelm, - To eat nor to drink nor to draw breath. - For until the Song of the Poet is heard - Ye do not live, ye can not live. - O noonday ghosts that gabble of losing and gaining, - Pitiful paupers that starve in the plenteous midmost - Of bounty unbounded. - - - - - Didst thou make me? - Some say yea. - Did I make thee? - Some say yea. - Oh, am I then thy son, O God, - Or art thou mine? - Thou art more beautiful than me, - And I will worship thee. - Lo, out of me is gone more great than me: - As Him that Mother Mary bore, - Greater far than Mary was; - As one mere woman brought the Lord, - Was mother of the Lord, - Might not my love and longing be - Father of thee? - - - - - There will one day be medicine to cure crime. - - - - - This youth, O Science, he knoweth more than thee, - He knoweth that life is sweet, - But thou, thou knowest not ever a Sweet. - -Tear me, I pray thee, this Flower of Sweetness-of-Life petal from petal, -number me the pistils, and above all, above all, dear Science, find me -the ovary thereof, and the seeds in the ovary, and save me these. - -Thou canst not. - - - - -Thou that in thy beautiful Church this morning art reading thy beautiful -service with a breaking heart—for that thou knowest thou art reading -folly to fools, and for that thou lovest these same folk and canst not -abide to think of losing thy friends, and knowest not how to tell them -the truth and findest them with no appetite to it nor strength for -it—thou fine young clergyman, on this spring morning, there, in the -pulpit, front of the dainty ladies with their breathing clouds of -dresses and the fans gently waving in the still air—and thou, there, -betwixt the pauses while the choir and the heavenly organ tear thy soul -with music, peering down with thine eyes in a dream upon the men in the -pews, the importers, the jobbers, the stockbrokers, the great drygoods -house, some at a nod, some calculating with pencils on the fly-leaf of -the Prayer-book, some wondering how it will be with 4's and sixes -to-morrow, some vacant, three with Christ thoughts, one out of two -hundred earnest—thou that turnest despairing away from the men back to -the women whereof several regard thee with soft and rich eyes, with -yearning after the unknown whatever-there-may-be-of-better-than-this, - - - - -I have a word for thee. - -Thou seest and wilt not cover thine eyes; thou dost stand at the -casement on a dewy morning, and sentimentalize over the birds that flit -by: for thou knowest a worm died in pain at each bird song, and death -sitteth in the dew; thou lookest through the rich lawn dresses of the -witch women, thou lookest through the ledger-revelries of the merchant, -thou seest quasi-religion which is hell-in-trifles before thee, thou -seest superstition black about thee,—I have a word for thee. - -Come out and declare. - - [_Credo, and Other Poems_] - - - - - CHOPIN - - - Betwixt the upper Mill-stone _Yes_ - And the nether Mill-stone _No_, - Whence cometh _burr_ and _burr_ and _burr_ - And much noise of quarrel, - The Miller poured the hopper full - Of corn from the bag, - And in the corn lay one violet, - (Maybe the farmer's little girl dropped it in - When the boy went to the bin to fill the bag). - And _burr_ quoth the upper Mill-stone, - And _burr you back again_ the nether, - And the violet was ground with the corn, - But passed not into the bag with the meal, - Thank God! - The odor of crushed violet flew forth - And passed about the ages; - And men here and there had a sense - Of somewhat rich and high-intense, - Dewy, fiery, dear, forlorn, - Delicate, grave, new out of the morn, - But saturate yet - With the night despair that every flower will wet. - - [_Credo, and Other Poems_] - - - - - A BUSINESS TRANSACTION - - - The poet stepped into a grimy den, - Where the sign above the door - Said: Money to lend, in sums to suit, - On Real Estate, &c. - - I want, said the Poet, - (So many thousand dollars). - So said Cent per Cent, rubbing his hands, - Where is the property? - - I offer, said the Poet, - My Castle in Spain, - 'Tis a lovely house, - So many rooms, acres, &c. - - - - - Ambling, ambling round the ring, - Round the ring of daily duty, - Leap, Circus-rider, man, through the paper hoop of death, - —Ah, lightest thou, beyond death, on this same slow-ambling, padded - horse of life. - -Youth, the circus-rider, fares gaily round the ring, standing with one -foot on the bare-backed horse—the Ideal. Presently, at the moment of -manhood, Life (exacting ring-master) causes another horse to be brought -in who passes under the rider's legs, and ambles on. This is the Real. -The young man takes up the reins, places a foot on each animal, and the -business now becomes serious. - -For it is a differing pace, of these two, the Real and the Ideal. - -And yet no man can be said to make the least success in life who does -not contrive to make them go well together. - - - - -The Age is an Adonis that pursues the boar Wealth: yet shall the rude -tusk of trade wound this blue-veined thigh,—if _Love_ come not to the -rescue; Adon despises Love. - - - - -Sometimes Providence seems to have a bee in his bonnet. Else why should -hell, the greatest risk, be the most improvable fact, and himself, the -only light, be the most completely undiscoverable? If the angels are -good company, why shut us out from them? I look for good boys for my -children. Hide not your light under a bushel, is His own command: and -yet He is completely obscured under the inexorable _quid pro quo_ of -Nature and the hateful measure of Evil. - - [_Credo, and Other Poems_] - - - - - The black-birds giving a shimmer of sound, - { transparent tremors - As midday hills give forth { luminous - of heat and haze. - - - - - FOR A FLOWER DECORATION OF - SOLDIERS' GRAVES - - - Unto your house, O sleepers, - Unto these graves that house you since ye died, - Unto these little rooms wherein ye sleep, - A serenade of Love who sings in flowers, - If sense more dim than thought - May pierce through the deep dream of death wherein ye lie. - - - - - In a silence embroidered with whispers of lovers, - As the darkness is purfled with fire-flies. - - - - - The feverish heaven with a stitch in the side, - Of lightning. - - - - - For Pray'r the Ocean is, where diversely - Men steer their course, each to a several coast, - Where all our interests so discordant be, - Half begging God for winds that - Would send the other half to hell. - - - - - As many blades of grass as be - In all thy horizontal round, - So many dreams brood over thee. - - - - -To stand with quietude in the midst of the prodigious Unknown which we -call the World, also to look with tranquil eyes upon the unfathomable -blackness which limits our view to the little space enclosed betwixt -birth and death. - - - - - So pray we to the God we dimly hope - Against calamities we clearly know. - - - - -It may be that the world can get along without God: but _I_ can not. The -universe-finity is to me like the chord of the dominant seventh, always -leading towards, always inviting onwards, a Chord of Progress; God is -the tonic Triad, a chord of Repose. - - - - - SONGS OF ALDHELM - - - Songs from the Sun, Songs from the ground, - Songs from the ... stars, - Songs, { fine souls of the body of sound, - { joined souls and bodies of sound, - ... ghosts of songs that died, - Songs of Birth and of Death, of ... - Beat million-rhythmed in the heart of my hearing, - The world is all sound and still signs of sound. - - - - - It appears that if I were perfect, I could not be perfect. - For with whoever is perfect, there is nothing more to be done. - But if there were nothing more to do, I would be very sorry: that is, I - would not be perfect. - Therefore it appears that I would not be perfect if I were perfect. - - [_Credo, and Other Poems_] - - - - - We know more than we know. - That the Lord is all, I know: - That I am part, I know. - But how shall we settle our provinces and diplomacies and boundaries, - the Lord and I? - Let us talk of this matter, dear Lord, I talking in silence. - - - - - _But the corruption, the rascality, the &c., &c._, - I am not afraid. - _But the stock broker, the whiskey ring_, - I am not afraid. - _Nay, but the war in the East_, - I am not afraid. - I see God about his godly affairs, - The cat-bird sits in the tree and sings - While the boy kills the &c. beneath. - -The mocking-bird hanging over the street sings, though robbery, murder, -fire, &c., go on. - - - - - WATER AT DAWN - - - Gray iris of the eyeball earth, - Limpid Intelligence. - - - - -It is the easiest thing in the world to make one falsehood out of two -truths. - - - - - O Science, wilt thou take my Christ, - Oh, wilt thou crucify him o'er - Betwixt false thieves with thieves' own pain, - Never to rise again? - Leave me this love, O cool-eyed One, - Leave me this Saviour. - - _Science_: Down at the base of a statue, - A flower of strange hue - I dug, that I might see and know the root thereof, - And lo, the statue is prone, fallen. - They did but crucify the godhead of Christ, - (_My God, my God_, He said, _why hast thou forsaken me?_) - The manhood rose and lives forever, - The Leader, the Friend, the Beloved of all men and women, - The strongest, the wisest, the dearest, the sweetest. - - - - -Come with me, Science; let us go into the Church here (say in Georgia); -let alone the youth here, they have roses in their cheeks, they know -that life is delicious, what need have they of thee? But fix thy keen -eye on these grave-faced and mostly sallow married women who make at -least half this congregation—these women who are the people that carry -around the subscription cards, and feed the preacher and keep him in -heart always. See, there is Mrs. S.: her husband and son were killed in -the war; Mrs. B.—her husband has been a thriftless fellow, and she has -finally found out the damnable fact that she is both stronger and purer -than he is, which she is, however, yet sweetly endeavoring to hide from -herself and all people; Mrs. C. D. and the rest of the alphabet in the -same condition;—Science, I grasp thee by the throat and ask thee with -vehement passion, wilt thou take away the Christ (who is to each -Deficiency in this house the Completion and Hoped Perfectness) from -these women? - - - - - To-day - The Stars tease me, as it were gadflies: - And I cannot bear the impudent reds and yellows of the flowers. - - - - - To many inarticulate - Like the great vague wind - Against the wire, one word larger - Than some languages, nowhere flippant, - My song is of all men and times and thoughts, - Therefore many, caring not - For aught save one man, this time, and finance, - Many, many listen not - Because I sing for all. - Sang I of that little king - That owns this special little time, - The world were mine; but oh, but oh, - I sing all Time that hath no king. - And if I sang this man or that, - Haply the singer's fee I win; - But part's too little: I sing all: - I know not parties, cliques, nor times. - - - - -The old Obligation of goodness has now advanced into the Delight of -goodness; the old Curse of Labor into the Delight of Labor; the old -Agony of blood-shedding sacrifice into the tranquil Delight of -Unselfishness. The Curse of the Jew of Genesis is the Blessing of the -modern Gentile. It is as if an avalanche, in the very moment of crushing -the kneeling villagers, should turn to a gentle and fruitful rain, and -be minister not of death but of life. - - - - - A GARDEN PARTY - - -Invitation brought by the wind, and sent by the rose and the oak. I sat -on the steps—warm summer noon—in a garden, and half cloudy with low -clouds, sun hot, rich mocking bird singing, bee brushing down a big -raindrop from a flower, where it hung tremulous. The bird's music is -echoed from the breasts of roses, and reflex sound comes doubly back -with grace of odor.—First came the lizard, dandiest of reptiles; then -the bee, then small strange insects that wear flap-wings and spider-web -legs, and crawl up the slim green stalks of grass; the catbirds, the -flowers, with each a soul—this is the company I like; the talk, the -gossip anent the last news of the spirit, the marriage of man and -nature, the betrothal of Science and Art, the failure of the great house -of Buy and Sell (see following note[1]), a rumor out of the sun, and -many messages concerning the stars. - -Footnote 1: - - Buy and Sell failed because Love was a partner. "This Love, now, who - is he?" said a comfortable burgher oak. "I hear much of him these - later days." Why, Love, he owneth all things: trees and land and water - power. - - - - - Oh, man falls into this wide sea of life - Like a pebble dropped by idle bands in water. - The little circle of the stir he makes - Does lessen as it widens, until Death - Comes on, and straightway the round ripple is gone out. - - - - - The grave is a cup - Wherewith I dip up - My draughts from the lake of life. - (Death, loquitor.) - - Death is the cup-bearer of Heaven, - God's Ganymede, and his cup is the - grave, and life is the wine that - fills it. - - - - - Birth is but a folding of our wings. - - - - - When bees, in honey-frenzies, rage and rage, - And their hot dainty wars with flowers wage, - Foraying in the woods for sweet rapine - And spreading odorous havoc o'er the green. - - - - -All men are pearl-divers, and we have but plunged down into this -straggling salt-sea of Life—to find a pearl. This Pearl, like all -others, comes from a wound: it is the Pearl of Love after Grief. - - - - -It is always sunrise and always sunset somewhere on the earth. And so, -with a silver sunrise before him and a golden sunset behind him, the -Royal Sun fares through Heaven, like a king with a herald and a retinue. - - - - -Night's a black-haired poet, and he's in love with Day. But he never -meets her save at early morn and late eve, when they fall into each -other's arms and draw out a lingering kiss: so folded together at such -times that we cannot distinguish bright maid from dark lover; and so we -call it Dawn and Twilight—it being - - Not light, but lustrous dark; - Not dark, but secret light. - - - - - These green and swelling hills, crowned with white tents, - Like vast green waves, white-foaming at the top. - - - - -Hunger and a whip: with these we tame wild beasts. So, to tame us, God -continually keeps our hearts hungry for love, and continually lashes our -souls with the thongs of relentless circumstance. - - - - - Star-drops lingering after sunlight's rain. - - - - -The earth, a grain of pollen dropped in the vast calyx of Heaven. - - - - -Our beliefs needed pruning, that they might bring forth more fruit: and -so Science came. - - - - -I, the artist, fought with a Knight that was cased in a mail of gold; -and my weapon, with all my art, would not penetrate his armor. Gold is a -soft metal, but makes the hardest hauberk of all. What shall I do to -pierce this covering? For I am hungry for this man, this business man of -stocks and drygoods, and now it seems as if there were no pleasure nor -hope nor life for me until I win him to my side. - - - - - My Desire is round, - It is a great globe. - If my desire were no bigger than this world - It were no bigger than a pin's head. - But this world is to the world I want - As a cinder to Sirius. - - - - -I am startled at the gigantic suggestions in this old story of the -Serpent who introduces knowledge to man in Eden. How could the Jew who -wrote Genesis have known the sadness that ever comes with learning—as if -wisdom were still the protégé of the Devil. - - - - -On the advantage of reducing facts—like fractions—to a common -denominator. - -We explain: but only in terms of x and y, which are themselves symbols -of we know not what, graphs of mystery. We establish relations betwixt -this and that mystery. We reduce x and y to a common denominator, so -that we can add them together, and make a scientific generalization, or -subtract them, and make a scientific analysis: but more we can not do. -The mystery is still a mystery, and this is all the material out of -which we must weave our life. - - - - - I had a dog, - And his name was not _Fido_, but _Credo_. - (In America they shorten his name to "_Creed_.") - My child fell into the water: - Then in plunged Credo, and brought me out my child, - My beloved One, - Brought him out, truly, - But lo, in my Child's throat and in his limbs, - In the throat and the limbs of the child of man, - Credo's teeth had bitten deep. - (A good dog but a stern one was _Credo_) - And my child, though sound, - Was scarred in his beautiful face - And was maimed in his manful limbs - For life, alas, for life. - Thus _Credo_ saved and scarred and maimed - The Son of Man, my Child. - - - - - There was a flower called Faith: - Man plucked it, and kept it in a vase of water. - This was long ago, mark you. - And the flower is now faint, - For the water with time and dust is foul. - Come let us pour out the old water, - And put in new, - That the flower of faith be red again. - - - - - Ten Lilies and ten Virgins, - And, mild marvel to mine eyes, - Five of the Virgins were foolish, - But _all_ of the lilies were wise. - - - - - Look out, Death, I am coming. - Art thou not glad? What talks we'll have, what memories - Of old battles. - Come, bring the bowl, Death; I am thirsty. - - - - -_Cut the Cord, Doctor!_ quoth the baby, man, in the nineteenth century. -_I am ready to draw my own breath._ - - - - -Whether one is an optimist or an orthodox religionist or what not, it -would seem that faith must centre upon Christ. - - - - -The Church is too hot, and Nothing is too cold. I find my proper -Temperature in Art. Art offers to me a method of adoring the sweet -master Jesus Christ, the beautiful souled One, without the straitness of -a Creed which confines my genuflexions, a Church which confines my -limbs, and without the vacuity of the doubt which numbs them. An -unspeakable gain has come to me in simply turning a certain phrase the -other way: the beauty of holiness becomes a new and wonderful saying to -me when I figure it to myself in reverse as the holiness of beauty. This -is like opening a window of dark stained glass, and letting in a flood -of white light. I thus keep upon the walls of my soul a church-wall -rubric which has been somewhat clouded by the expiring breaths of creeds -dying their natural death. For in art there is no doubt. My heart beat -all last night without my supervision: for I was asleep; my heart did -not doubt a throb; I left it beating when I slept, I found it beating -when I woke; it is thus with art: it beats in my sleep. A holy tune was -in my soul when I fell asleep: it was going when I awoke. This melody is -always moving along in the background of my spirit. If I wish to -compose, I abstract my attention from the thoughts which occupy the -front of the stage, the _dramatis personæ_ of the moment, and fix myself -upon the deeper scene in the rear. - - - - -It is now time that one should arise in the world and cry out that Art -is made for man and not man for art: that government is made for man and -not man for government: that religion is made for man and not man for -religion: that trade is made for man and not man for trade. This is -essentially the utterance of Christ in declaring that the Sabbath was -made for man and not man for the Sabbath. - - - - -Like the forest whose edges near man's dwellings are embroidered with -birds, while its inner recesses are the unbroken solid color of -solitude. - - - - - To him that humbly here will look - I'll ope the heavens wide, - But ne'er a blessing brings a book - To him that reads in pride. - Whoe'er shall search me but to see - Some fact he hath foretold, - Making my gospel but his prophecy. - My New his little Old. - To him that opens his hands upwards to me like a thirsty plant - I am Rain, - But to him that merely stands as a patron by to see me perform - I am Zero and a Drought. - - - - - Then three tall lilies floated white along - To these woods: we come from Nature, - Ambassadors, for thou gavest us consideration, - For thou said'st, Consider the lilies, - And who considers them will soon consider - And how that they did exceed the glory of Solomon. - - - - - How in the Age gone by - Thou took'st the Time upon thy knee - As a child, - A Time that smote thee in the face - Even whilst thou did kiss it, - And how it tore out thy loving eyes - Even while thou didst teach it. - - - - - The monstrous things the mighty world hath kept - In reverence 'gainst the law of reverence: - The lies of Judith, Brutus' treachery, - Damon's deceit, all wiles of war. - - - - - TO A CERTAIN THREE OAKS IN DRUID HILL PARK - - - Let me lean against you, my Loves, - Give me a place, my darlings, - I am so happy, so fain, so full, in your large company. - -I knew a saint that said he never went among men without returning home -less a man than he was before he went forth. But it is not so with you: -I am always more a man when I converse with you. Who is so manly and so -manifold sweet as a tree? There is none that can talk like a tree: for a -tree says always to me exactly that which I wish him to say. A man is -apt to say what I did not desire to hear, or what I had no need to know -at that time. A tree knows always my necessity. - - - - - O Earth, O mother, thou my Beautiful, - Why frowns this shallow feud 'twixt me and thee? - Were I a bad son, deaf, undutiful, - Nor loved thy mother-talk, thy gramarye - Of groves, thy hale discourse of fact in terms - That mince not, yea, thy sharp cold winter - Like as the love lore thine expressive germs - Of spring do plainly petal forth,—'twere cause - Conceivable of quarrel. - - - - - HOW TWELVE STAGS PLOWED FOR SAINT LEONOR - - - Ere yet to brakeward stole the feeding fawn, - While grave and lone about the greenwood lay - All soft seclusions of the dimmest dawn, - Forth from his hut, in heavenly airs to pray - - Fared Father Leonor, wrapt with morn and God, - New-perfected in look and limb with sleep, - Fain of each friendly tree whereby he trod, - At dew-drop salutations smiling deep. - - He paced the hollow towards his pleasant goal - Where burst from out a tall oak's roots a spring, - As prayer from priviest fibres of the soul - Leaps forth in loneliness. There stood a stalwart ring - - Of twelve great oaks about that middle Oak, - Which uttered forth the fount, as erstwhile stood - The sweetest Twelve of time round Him who spoke - The words that watered life's long drought of good. - - Straight fell the father Leonor on his knees - Down by the foot of that Christ-Oak, and cried, - My master, while they sleep, I pray for these, - My soul's dear sons, my sixty, that abide - - About my cell since first my wandering feet - In these Armoric wilds were stayed: O Lord,[2] - . . . . . . - -Footnote 2: - - "The Legend of St. Leonor" is given in full in Mr. Lanier's - "Retrospects and Prospects." - - - - - WHAT AM I WITHOUT THEE? - - - What am I without thee, Beloved? - A mere stem, that hath no flower; - A sea forever at storm, without its calms; - A shrine, with the Virgin stolen out; - A cloud void of lightning; - A bleak moor where yearnings moan like the winter winds; - A rock on sea-sand, whence the sea hath retired, and no longer claspeth - and loveth it; - A hollow oak with the heart riven thereout, living by the bark alone; - A dark star; - A bird with both wings broken; - A Dryad in a place where no trees are; - A brook that never reacheth the sea; - A mountain without sunrise thereon and without springs therein; - A wave that runneth on forever, to no shore; - A raindrop suspended between Heaven and Earth, arrested in his course; - A bud, that will never open; - - A hope that is always dying; - An eye with no sparkle in it; - A tear wept, dropped in the dust, cold; - A bow whereof the string is snapped; - An orchestra, wanting the violin; - A poor poem; - A bent lance; - A play without plot or dénouement; - An arrow, shot with no aim; - Chivalry without his Ladye; - A sound unarticulated; - A water-lily left in a dry lake-bed; - Sleep without a dream and without a waking-time; - A pallid lip; - A grave whereafter cometh neither Heaven nor hell; - A broken javelin fixed in a breastplate; - A heart that liveth, but throbbeth not; - An Aurora of the North, dying upon the ice, in the night; - A blurred picture; - A lonesome, lonesome, lonesome yearning lover! - - - - - My birds, my pretty pious buccaneers - That haunt the shores of daybreak and of dusk, - Truly my birds did find to-day - A-strand out yonder on the Balsam hills - A bright bulk, where the night wave left it, - High upon the Balsam peaks. - Then my birds, my sweet, my heavenly [day prickers], - Did open up the day - Like as some castaway bale of flotsam sunlight-stuff - And jetsam of woven Easternry: one loud exclaimed - Upon brocaded silver with more silver voice: - And one, when gold embroideries flamed in golden songs of better - broidered tones, - Translated them. And one from out some rare tone-tissue in his soul - Shook fringes of sweet indecisive sound, - And purfled all that ravishment of light with ravishment of music that - not left - Heat, or dry longing, or any indictment of God, - Or question. - - [_Lynn, N. C., August, 1881_] - - - - - When into reasonable discourse plain - Or russet terms of dealing and old use - I would recast the joy, the tender pain - Of the silver birch, the rhododendron, the brook, - Or, all blest particulars of beauty sum - In one most continent word that means something - To all men, to some men everything, - To one all, but one will cover with satisfaction, - That is love. - Yet I well know this tree is a selfish [saver]-up of drink - Might else have nourished these laurels: - Yea, and they did not hand round the cup - To the grass ere they drank, - Nor the grass inquire if room is here for her and the phlox. - Yet my spirit will have it that Love is the lost meaning - of this Hate, and Peace the end of this Battle. - Why? This is revelation. Here I find God: what - power less than His could fancy such wild inconsequence - and unreason as flies out of this anguish, and - Love out of this Murder. - - [_Lynn, N. C., August, 1881_] - - - - - I awoke, and there my Gossip, Midnight, stood - Fast by my head, and there the Balsams sat - Round about, and we talked together. - -And "Here is some news," quoth Midnight. "What is this word 'news' -whereof we hear?" begged the Balsams: "What mean you by news? what thing -is there which is not very old? Two neighbors in a cabin talking -yesterday I heard giving and taking news; and one, for news, saith -William is dead; and 'tother for news gave that a child is born at -Anne's house. But what manner of people be these that call birth and -death new? Birth and death were before aught else that we know was." - - [_Credo; Hymn of the Mountains_] - - [_Lynn, N. C., August, 1881_] - - - - - * * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber's note: - - 1. Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical - errors. - - 2. 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