The Lord of Misrule, and Other Poems Part 11

IX

O Time, thou mask of the ever-living Soul, Thou veil to shield us from that blinding Face, Thou art wearing thin! We are nearer to the goal When man no more shall need thy saving grace, But all the folded years like one great scroll Shall be unrolled in the omnipresent Now, And He that saith _I am_ unseal the tomb: Nearer His thunders and His trumpets roll, I catch the gleam that lit thy lifted brow, O singer whose wild eyes Possess these April skies, I touch--I clasp thy hands thro' all the clouds of doom.

X

Teach thou our living choirs amid the sound Of their tempestuous chords once more to hear That harmony wherewith the whole is crowned, The singing heavens that sphere by choral sphere Break open, height o'er height, to the utmost bound Of pa.s.sionate thought! O, as this glorious land, This sacred country shining on the sea, Grows mightier, let not her clear voice be drowned In the fierce waves of faction. Let her stand A beacon to the blind, A signal to mankind, A witness to the heavens' profoundest unity.

XI

Her altars are forgotten and her creeds Dust, and her soul foregoes the lesser Cross.

O, point her to the greater! Her heart bleeds Still, where men simply feel some vague deep loss.

Their hands grope earthward, knowing not what she needs.

We would not call her back in this great hour!

Nay, upward, onward, to the heights untrod Signal us, living voices, by those deeds Of all her deathless heroes, by the Power That still, still walks her waves, Still chastens her, still saves, Signal us, not to the dead, but to the living G.o.d.

XII

Signal us with that watchword of the deep, The watchword that her boldest seamen gave The winds of the unknown ocean-sea to keep, When round their oaken walls the midnight wave Heaved and subsided in gigantic sleep, And they plunged Westward with her flag unfurled.

Hark, o'er their cloudy sails and glimmering spars, The watch cries, as they proudly onward sweep,-- _Before the world ... All's well!... Before the world_ ...

From mast to calling mast The counter-cry goes past-- _Before the world was G.o.d!_--it rings against the stars.

XIII

Signal us o'er the little heavens of gold With that heroic signal Nelson knew When, thro' the thunder and flame that round him rolled, He pointed to the dream that still held true.

Cry o'er the warring nations, cry as of old _A little child shall lead them! they shall be One people under the shadow of G.o.d's wing!

There shall be no more weeping!_ Let it be told That Britain set one foot upon the sea, One foot on the earth. Her eyes Burned thro' the conquered skies, And, as the angel of G.o.d, she bade the whole world sing.

XIV

A dream? Nay, have ye heard or have ye known That the everlasting G.o.d who made the ends Of all creation wearieth? His worlds groan Together in travail still. Still He descends From heaven. The increasing worlds are still His throne And His creative Calvary and His tomb Through which He sinks, dies, triumphs with each and all, And ascends, mult.i.tudinous and at one With all the hosts of His evolving doom, His vast redeeming strife, His everlasting life, His love, beyond which not one bird, one leaf can fall.

XV

And hark, His whispers thro' creation flow, _Lovest thou me?_ His nations answer "yea!"

And--_Feed My lambs_, His voice as long ago Steals from that highest heaven, how far away!

And yet again saith--_Lovest thou Me?_ and "O, Thou knowest we love Thee," pa.s.sionately we cry: But, heeding not our tumult, out of the deep The great grave whisper, pitiful and low, Breathes--_Feed My sheep_; and yet once more the sky Thrills with that deep strange plea, _Lovest thou, lovest thou Me?_ And our lips answer "yea"; but our G.o.d--_Feed My sheep._

XVI

O sink not yet beneath the exceeding weight Of splendour, thou still single-hearted voice Of Britain. Droop not earthward now to freight Thy soul with fragments of the song, rejoice In no faint flights of music that create Low heavens o'er-arched by skies without a star, Nor sink in the easier gulfs of shallower pain!

Sing thou in the whole majesty of thy fate, Teach us thro' joy, thro' grief, thro' peace, thro' war, With single heart and soul Still, still to seek the goal, And thro' our perishing heavens, point us to Heaven again.

XVII

Voice of the summer stars that long ago Sang thro' the old oak-forests of our isle, An ocean-music that thou ne'er couldst know Storms Heaven--O, keep us steadfast all the while; Not idly swayed by tides that ebb and flow, But strong to embrace the whole vast symphony Wherein no note (no bird, no leaf) can fall Beyond His care, to enfold it all as though Thy single harp were ours, its unity In battle like one sword, And O, its one reward One spray of the sacred oak, still coveted most of all.

THE WORLD'S WEDDING

"Et quid curae n.o.bis de generibus et speciebus? Ex uno Verbo omnia, et unum loquuntur omnia. Cui omnia unum sunt, quique ad unum omnia trahit et omnia in uno videt, potest stabilis corde esse."--THOMAS a KEMPIS.

I

When poppies fired the nut-brown wheat, My love went by with sun-stained feet: I followed her laughter, followed her, followed her, all a summer's morn!

But O, from an elfin palace of air, A wild bird sang a song so rare, I stayed to listen and--lost my Fair, And walked the world forlorn.

II

When chalk shone white between the sheaves, My love went by as one that grieves; I followed her weeping, followed her, followed her, all an autumn noon!

The sunset flamed so fierce a red From North to South--I turned my head To wonder--and my Fair was fled Beyond the dawning moon.

III

When bare black boughs were choked with snow, My love went by, as long ago; I followed her dreaming, followed her, followed her, all a winter's night!

But O, along that snow-white track With th.o.r.n.y shadows printed black, I saw three kings come riding back, And--lost my life's delight.

IV

They are so many, and she but One; And I and she, like moon and sun So separate ever! Ah yet, I follow her, follow her, faint and far; For what if all this diverse bliss Should run together in one kiss!

Swift, Spring, with the sweet clue I miss Between these several instances,-- The kings, that inn, that star.

V

Between the hawk's and the wood-dove's wing, My love, my love flashed by like Spring!

The year had finished its golden ring!

Earth, the Gipsy, and Heaven, the King, Were married like notes in the song I sing, And O, I followed her, followed her, followed her over the hills of Time, Never to lose her now I know, For whom the sun was clasped in snow, The heights linked to the depths below, The rose's flush to the planet's glow, Death the friend to life the foe, The Winter's joy to the Spring's woe, And the world made one in a rhyme.

IN MEMORIAM: SAMUEL COLERIDGE-TAYLOR