Classic Poem

This is the dream of the Dreamer
With the grave thought-sunken eyes,
Which he dreamed between sleeping and waking,
Between the night and the making
Of dawn ... and he dreamed in this wise:

To the gate of the dawn came a chariot
Which four black stallions were drawing,
And a spirit charioteer,
With the burning eyes of a seer,
Held them impatiently pawing.

He mounted the floor of the chariot,
And the Spirit drew together
His reins, his strong grip tight'ning,
And his thong flashed out like a lightning,
And the horses rushed up to æther.

The Dreamer was caught into space
With a pang as of ending or birth,
And lo! clouds builded above him,
And beneath him soundless and moving
The sea of his own little earth.

They clove the walls of the clouds,
And snorted each coal black stallion
Nursed by the Spirit, whose hair
Streamed out like a banner, and bare
In the night was the moon--a medallion

And then an ice-sheathed corpse
With ancient glaciers and snouted
Craters of fires extinct,
Chain on chain of them linked.
And the Lord of the Chariot shouted

And shook out his hissing lash
Over the backs of the four
Till they whirled up faster and faster,
Till the sun became vaster and vaster,
And its flames leapt out with a roar

Of mountains, subsident, resurging,
Innumerable, ceaseless of action,
Years and years into space....
And the Dreamer covered his face,
As he rode, in his stupefaction.

They passed with a dip and a swerve,
As a swallow skims the downs,
Far up into the height,
And the stars looked down from the night
Like the lights of distant towns.

Swift is the lonely thought
Of a sage, a mountain-dweller,
But swifter far was their rush
Thro' the awful cold and the hush
Of the spaces interstellar.

They heard the approaching thunder,
And saw the glare of a comet
Holding its destined way
To an undiscovered day,
And its tresses streamed out from it.

They broke thro' other systems,
By huger alien spheres,
Each in its orbit travelling,
The timeless skeins unravelling
Of a law with no count of years

And came at last to a planet,
Girt in a gleaming ring
Of cloud and vapour and mist,
Which the light of four moons kissed
To a wonderful milk-white thing.

Then the Spirit reined in his stallions,
And pointed in exultation
And turned his orbèd eyes,
Which burned with a wild surmise
And a dreadful penetration,

On the Dreamer, who followed, and lo!
The Heavens had changed their stations,
And their voids were with unknown
And greater galaxies sown
And altered constellations.

And, beyond, a scatter of crystals,
And, beyond, bright motes in a beam,
And, beyond, while the Spirit probed him
To the soul in the flesh that robed him,
An uncountable shimmering stream.

He saw these worlds all marshalled,
And their ways all governed for ever;
And he felt the sight of his soul
Shrivel up like a fire-licked scroll
In his insupportable terror.

Then the Spirit pointed again,
And wheeled the might of his horses
And shouted ... and down they fell,
As a pebble drops in a well,
Thro' the worlds and the roar of their courses.

And the Dreamer looked, and behold!
In a point to æons withdrawn....
A scarce visible speck of light,
His own sun like a mite,
And the blur of his own little dawn.


II

Now the Dreamer, who rode by night
In the car of the Spirit thro' space,
Came in the blue of June morning,
In a mood betwixt pity and scorning,
To the populous market-place.

Afar in the infinite blue
Hung the snow-capped mountain-ranges;
But round him moved the press
Of the city's business
In kaleidoscopic changes.

For the square was all life and all colour,
All confusion and clamour,
As dealers showed the paces
Of colts, untamed in the traces,
To the rap of the auctioneer's hammer.

He saw there the dusty sheep
Trotting blindly amidst the throng;
The swine with quivering snouts,
The boys who urged them with shouts,
The hawkers of picture and song;

The brown-skinned peasants trudging
By their slow-paced bullock wains,
With children asprawl the load,
And wives who scolded and rode
With an eye to their husbands' gains;

The hooknosed Orient merchants,
Who came in the caravans
And bargained over the prices
Of silks and carpets and spices,
Pearls and feathers and fans;

The clumsy sailors in ear-rings
From the echoing harbour beach,
With parrots and shells for their wares,
The light of the sun in their stares,
The sound of the wind in their speech.

And the shrill-voiced changers of money
Who sat with their clerks at the tables....
And it seemed to him all no matter
As he gazed ... like the evening chatter
Of starlings under his gables.


III

And lo! hard by at a pillar
Two learned Sophists disputed,
Taking the turn of speech
And disciples applauded each
Or else each other confuted

With babble and clenching of fist,
And thrusting of face into face,
And saying "Demus hath reason"
Or "Lycas hath conquered. The season
Of Demus hath passed, and his place

"Is with us no longer." And mildly
The grave-eyed Dreamer watched them
Shouting and seething and ranting.
But, when they perceived him, panting
(For a sudden impulse snatched them)

Ran up a crowd of both factions
And cried, "Oh! Master, befriend us,
For we all of us know thou art wisest,
That thou speakest the truth and despisest
No man and his need. Therefore lend us

"Thy wisdom in this our dilemma."
And the Dreamer answered, "I hear."
So they told him with quibble and chatter....
And it seemed to him all no matter
Like the croaking of frogs in a mere.


IV

And behold! there ran thro' the market,
Hard by where the Dreamer stood,
A natural, void of desire
Save for warmth of the sun or of fire
Or for softness abed or food.

Naught held he dearer in mind,
Save the branchèd lightning veins;
And in naught more strongly rejoiced
Save the sound of the thunder deep-voiced
Or the fertile flash of the rains

Or the seas climbing into the harbour;
And so thro' the market he ran
Happy and careless and free
(Him no man heeded for he
Was a boy who would ne'er be a man)

Munching the gift of a cake,
A pilfered apple or fig,
Or danced with his shadow awhile,
Smiling a secret smile,
Or twirled a hued whirligig.

And the Dreamer called to him, "Come!"
As he skipped in the sun with his Shadow.
And the boy came doubtful and shy
With a timid foot and eye,
As a young horse comes in a meadow.

And the Dreamer touched his cheek
And murmured, "Be not afraid,"
And the boy took heart and smiled,
For the voice was tender and mild,
And then half sadly it said,

"Oh! ye who have called me the Master,
The Teller of Truth, and the Wise,
Oh! ye who have strayed in the dark
Give ear to my saying and mark,
For I give you a pearl of price,

"A dark saying, and a hard saying
To those who read it aright--
This natural, whom ye see,
Is wiser, Oh! blind ones, than ye,
And thus have I learned in the night."