The Poems of Sidney Lanier Part 20

Behold my latest work, thou Earth!

The Self of Man is taking birth."

IV.

Then, Land, tall Adam of the West, Thou stood'st upon the springy sod, Thy large eye ranging self-possest, Thy limbs the limbs of G.o.d's young G.o.d, Thy Pa.s.sion murmuring 'I will' -- Lord of the Lordship Good-and-Ill.

V.

O manful arms, of supple size To clasp a world or a waist as well!

O manful eyes, to front the skies Or look much pity down on h.e.l.l!

O manful tongue, to work and sing, And soothe a child and dare a king!

VI.

O wonder! Now thou sleep'st in pain, Like as some dream thy soul did grieve: G.o.d wounds thee, heals thee whole again, And calls thee trembling to thine Eve.

Wide-armed, thou dropp'st on knightly knee: 'Dear Love, Dear Freedom, go with me!'

VII.

Then all the beasts before thee pa.s.sed -- Beast War, Oppression, Murder, l.u.s.t, False Art, False Faith, slow skulking last -- And out of Time's thick-rising dust Thy Lord said, "Name them, tame them, Son; Nor rest, nor rest, till thou hast done."

VIII.

Ah, name thou false, or tame thou wrong, At heart let no man fear for thee: Thy Past sings ever Freedom's Song, Thy Future's voice sounds wondrous free; And Freedom is more large than Crime, And Error is more small than Time.

IX.

Come, thou whole Self of Latter Man!

Come o'er thy realm of Good-and-Ill, And do, thou Self that say'st 'I can,'

And love, thou Self that say'st 'I will;'

And prove and know Time's worst and best, Thou tall young Adam of the West!

____ Baltimore, 1876.

At First. To Charlotte Cushman.

My crippled sense fares bow'd along His uncompanioned way, And wronged by death pays life with wrong And I wake by night and dream by day.

And the Morning seems but fatigued Night That hath wept his visage pale, And the healthy mark 'twixt dark and light In sickly sameness out doth fail.

And the woods stare strange, and the wind is dumb, -- O Wind, pray talk again -- And the Hand of the Frost spreads stark and numb As Death's on the deadened window-pane.

Still dumb, thou Wind, old voluble friend?

And the middle of the day is cold, And the heart of eve beats lax i' the end As a legend's climax poorly told.

Oh vain the up-straining of the hands In the chamber late at night, Oh vain the complainings, the hot demands, The prayers for a sound, the tears for a sight.

No word from over the starry line, No motion felt in the dark, And never a day gives ever a sign Or a dream sets seal with palpable mark.

And O my G.o.d, how slight it were, How nothing, thou All! to thee, That a kiss or a whisper might fall from her Down by the way of Time to me:

Or some least grace of the body of love, -- Mere wafture of floating-by, Mere sense of unseen smiling above, Mere hint sincere of a large blue eye,

Mere dim receipt of sad delight From Nearness warm in the air, What time with the pa.s.sing of the night She also pa.s.sed, somehow, somewhere.

____ Baltimore, 1876.

A Ballad of Trees and the Master.

Into the woods my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent.

Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame.

But the olives they were not blind to Him, The little gray leaves were kind to Him: The thorn-tree had a mind to Him When into the woods He came.

Out of the woods my Master went, And He was well content.

Out of the woods my Master came, Content with death and shame.

When Death and Shame would woo Him last, From under the trees they drew Him last: 'Twas on a tree they slew Him -- last When out of the woods He came.

____ Baltimore, November, 1880.

A Florida Sunday.

From cold Norse caves or buccaneer Southern seas Oft come repenting tempests here to die; Bewailing old-time wrecks and robberies, They shrive to priestly pines with many a sigh, Breathe salutary balms through lank-lock'd hair Of sick men's heads, and soon -- this world outworn -- Sink into saintly heavens of stirless air, Clean from confessional. One died, this morn, And willed the world to wise Queen Tranquil: she, Sweet sovereign Lady of all souls that bide In contemplation, tames the too bright skies Like that faint agate film, far down descried, Restraining suns in sudden thoughtful eyes Which flashed but now. Blest distillation rare Of o'er-rank brightness filtered waterwise Through all the earths in heaven -- thou always fair, Still virgin bride of e'er-creating thought -- Dream-worker, in whose dream the Future's wrought -- Healer of hurts, free balm for bitter wrongs -- Most silent mother of all sounding songs -- Thou that dissolvest h.e.l.ls to make thy heaven -- Thou tempest's heir, that keep'st no tempest leaven -- But after winds' and thunders' wide mischance Dost brood, and better thine inheritance -- Thou privacy of s.p.a.ce, where each grave Star As in his own still chamber sits afar To meditate, yet, by thy walls unpent, Shines to his fellows o'er the firmament -- Oh! as thou liv'st in all this sky and sea That likewise lovingly do live in thee, So melt my soul in thee, and thine in me, Divine Tranquillity!

Gray Pelican, poised where yon broad shallows shine, Know'st thou, that finny foison all is mine In the bag below thy beak -- yet thine, not less?

For G.o.d, of His most gracious friendliness, Hath wrought that every soul, this loving morn, Into all things may be new-corporate born, And each live whole in all: I sail with thee, Thy Pelican's self is mine; yea, silver Sea, In this large moment all thy fishes, ripples, bights, Pale in-sh.o.r.e greens and distant blue delights, White visionary sails, long reaches fair By moon-horn'd strands that film the far-off air, Bright sparkle-revelations, secret majesties, Sh.e.l.ls, wrecks and wealths, are mine; yea, Orange-trees, That lift your small world-systems in the light, Rich sets of round green heavens studded bright With globes of fruit that like still planets shine, Mine is your green-gold universe; yea, mine, White slender Lighthouse fainting to the eye That wait'st on yon keen cape-point wistfully, Like to some maiden spirit pausing pale, New-wing'd, yet fain to sail Above the serene Gulf to where a bridegroom soul Calls o'er the soft horizon -- mine thy dole Of shut undaring wings and wan desire -- Mine, too, thy later hope and heavenly fire Of kindling expectation; yea, all sights, All sounds, that make this morn -- quick flights Of pea-green paroquets 'twixt neighbor trees, Like missives and sweet morning inquiries From green to green, in green -- live oaks' round heads, Busy with jays for thoughts -- grays, whites and reds Of pranked woodp.e.c.k.e.rs that ne'er gossip out, But alway tap at doors and gad about -- Robins and mocking-birds that all day long Athwart straight sunshine weave cross-threads of song, Shuttles of music -- clouds of mosses gray That rain me rains of pleasant thoughts alway From a low sky of leaves -- faint yearning psalms Of endless metre breathing through the palms That crowd and lean and gaze from off the sh.o.r.e Ever for one that cometh nevermore -- Palmettos ranked, with childish spear-points set Against no enemy -- rich cones that fret High roofs of temples shafted tall with pines -- Green, grateful mangroves where the sand-beach shines -- Long lissome coast that in and outward swerves, The grace of G.o.d made manifest in curves -- All riches, goods and braveries never told Of earth, sun, air and heaven -- now I hold Your being in my being; I am ye, And ye myself; yea, lastly, Thee, G.o.d, whom my roads all reach, howe'er they run, My Father, Friend, Beloved, dear All-One, Thee in my soul, my soul in Thee, I feel, Self of my self. Lo, through my sense doth steal Clear cognizance of all selves and qualities, Of all existence that hath been or is, Of all strange haps that men miscall of chance, And all the works of tireless circ.u.mstance: Each borders each, like mutual sea and sh.o.r.e, Nor aught misfits his neighbor that's before, Nor him that's after -- nay, through this still air, Out of the North come quarrels, and keen blare Of challenge by the hot-breath'd parties blown; Yet break they not this peace with alien tone, Fray not my heart, nor fright me for my land, -- I hear from all-wards, allwise understand, The great bird Purpose bears me twixt her wings, And I am one with all the kinsmen things That e'er my Father fathered. Oh, to me All questions solve in this tranquillity: E'en this dark matter, once so dim, so drear, Now shines upon my spirit heavenly-clear: Thou, Father, without logic, tellest me How this divine denial true may be, -- How 'All's in each, yet every one of all Maintains his Self complete and several.'

____ Tampa, Florida, 1877.

To My Cla.s.s: On Certain Fruits and Flowers Sent Me in Sickness.