Classic Poem

But men have known
The secret a long time. Men, forgotten,
Few, keepers of lean goats on the mountains,
Knew in the old time the standing before us of
Strangeness under the clear air …

There have been men a long, long time that knew this.
The words come to us
Far off, faint in our ears, confused. They have told us of
Signs seen by night and the vanishing signals.
They have told how the lights change. They have told of the ominous
Stir over the leaves and the showing among them of
Mysteries hiding a dark thing …

Now is Bleheris speaking in the book.
I am beside the fire. The old page
Wrinkles with light. A log falls. The wind
Swings from tree to tree in the wet night.
Now is Bleheris speaking:
… and all that day
Seaward and down from ridge to ridge and the
Pines oak and the oaks birch and the birch trees
Pine again rooting in coarse sand, the horse track
Swallowed behind, the jays ahead of me screaming,
And I by the ridge rode on: and the wind changed with
Flaws from westward, cold in the sun, and a sound
Echoing surf from the leaves: and the steep land
Fell and I saw the sea.
And by the sea was a ship but no man in her.
And sail was set on the ship and I led the beast by a
Rock's bridge and I cut rope and the wind was
Off shore smelling at first of the furze root,
Afterward cold: and the boom jibed over and
She moved, wind in the sail top, rolling to the long
Swell, the land against the wind, the skystain
Spilling from trough to trough of the dead waves.
And she cleared the lee with the light and the wind freshened and
Night came. Thence north until dawn and at dawn
Hills and a morning tower in the sun:
Then nothing. And the wind held all that day
Heaping the wave tops westward, and all night
The wind was with us but the second morning
Hauled south and drove her, the lee rail
Free by a strake, the wake washed out by the sea-scud.
And all that day I held her and at dark
Luffed to have reefed her but she went about,
Heeled and came up half foundered running off
East by north with the wind aft and the waves
Taking her stern, the lift logged with the bilge water.
That was the third night and the morning stormy,
Rain and the wind gone east, the geer wet,
The bow sheer down with water. And I slept
And woke past sunset and I saw the sky
Gold, and against it black, and the black, land:
And the scud blew over it blurring the golden light.
And all that night the surf was through the sea mist:
The pine tops combing through the fog at dawn.
And I struck the sea with the oars but the ship lifted,
Grinding on gravel, and the bow fell off
Waiting the seventh wave and leaned and rode with it
Beam-on high on the beach and the wave drew
Down and she held the shingle. And I rode
And climbed through rock-scrub inland to a marsh
And past the marsh a forest and till night
Tunneled in tree-dark riding and saw neither
Glebe nor fence, fallow nor cow track, only
Dog foot, wolf, nor birds but three birds silent,
Nor any live thing other but the bat,
Nor sound but bat's sound nor the whine of flies.
And the sun went down, red among beech trees, leaving
High in the east, red, and no stars, and after
Wind again, rain behind it, the first few
Drops and the storm gust, thunder and the flash
Casting no shadow. And I rode and there was
One light lingered through the shut of dark.
That light I followed. And I found a door:
And past the door a church nave: and the church
Empty, the sill moss growing on the stone:
And one bare chapel. And I saw the light
Bright in that chapel. And I saw a cup
Crimson and burning and a flame of candles
Burning before it. And I knew that cup.
I knelt there thanking Jesus Christ.
And the wind
Sucked at the dead air and the water dripped
And the candle flame fell limp in the heavy dark
And stiffened smoking and the moving leaves
Flapped in the window. So the night passed half
And I awake still staring at the cup
Forefeeling terror heard the beast go back,
Rear and a hoof ring striking, and looked up
And saw come inward at that window place,
Come from the plunging darkness into light,
Loose fingers groping, cropped, no arm there, grey,
The nails gone, shriveled, a dead hand, and droop
And close about the vessel. And the flame
Leapt and the night had all. Then silence. Then,
Loud till the stone shook, lamentable, long
As all the dead together, a great cry
Shrieking with laughter: afterward the sound
The horse made breathing. And I rose and ran
And mounted, leaning for the door, the stench
Of death, of flesh rot, choking me, rode out,
Spurred, and the wet leaves cold against my face,
Came to a clearing in the wood and reined
And saw the storm had passed there and the sky all
Clean, the stars out …
… Peace! I pray you all
If you have hitherto concealed this sight …

the page
Wrinkles with light. A log falls. The wind
Swings from tree to tree in the wet night.

 It may be then we are deceived in this.
 It may be this is other than we think
 And in our sleep … or secretly … or by
 The sudden blade of pain …
it may well be
 The thing is evil and these seeming soft
 Familiar gestures, these half signs, this shy
 Withheld warm look the earth has after day,
 This green, this ever blue, these stars—these stars—
 Are false and to deceive us. It may be