AS EQUENCE OF Five S ONNETS
W HEN all the holy primal part of me
Arises up within me to salute
The glorious vision of the Earth and Sea,
Which are the kindred of the destitute;
When passionate and happy like a lover
I laugh and teaze the laughing winds, I twine
Aspiring arms about the clouds, I cover
The eager lips of Earth with lips of mine;
Oh, then I sob for words which are denied,
As living creatures buried sob for breath,
Who cannot stir, but keen with eyelids wide
Taste all the helpless agonies of death,
Growing to cold communion with the sod,
And perish broken-hearted, doubting God.
The lightning-stroke of fear hath oftentimes
Knocked out Aspark of speech on dumb men's tongues,
I fain would render out in clarion rhymes
This glorious air of Earth which fills my lungs;
The Sun, his birth, his ride, his solemn fall,
The rain, the lovely looks of English ground!
And happier larks make mention of them all
In sovereign springs of elemental sound.
But that diviner breath which through me blows,
Nor makes me prophesy nor lets me rest
(O happy lark to sing whate'er he knows!)
But aches uneased within me, unexprest;
For song still-born's a triply-heated fire,
Love disappointed, shame, and vain desire.
O happy lark to sing whate'er he knows,
In God's approval, dimly starring there
Whither by fiery stress of song he rose,
His chantry fixt in wandering aisles of air;
His song out-tops the riches of his thought,
Whom April field, and tree, and river's brim,
And quiet rains, and dazing sunshine taught
The high, transfigured sweetness of his hymn.
Sing for us all, my brother! lend your wings
To spirit away my yearning from the ground, —
'Twixt thanks and envy while another sings,
Dumb-devilled, flown with heady hopes and bound,
As, primed with sovereign flights the tied balloon
Tugs to be towering freely towards the moon.
I sob for words attuned to the pitch
Of high delight and wonder everywhere
Dinned in my ears, for words to paint the rich
Eyes'-festival of colour in the air:
Opulences, persuasions, tendernesses,
Nameless elations, strange familiar awes,
Tears mixt with laughter in divine distresses —
And all too shy, too rare for song's applause!
Largess thyself, large Giver: who but grudges
To drink of joy and know not where the fount is,
Heartbroke for debts of love the heart adjudges,
Confest a churl by unrequited bounties?
So many mercies throng my doors about,
No yearning word of thanks and praise can out.
No yearning word of thanks and praise can out!
The destined messengers of thankfulness
Rolled back upon me by the inbreaking rout
Struggle against them, chafing while they bless:
" Make way for us, make way for us! The red
Torch of the word unuttered sears our eyes,
And burns our palms, until we fire the dead
Blind world awaiting us to evangelize.
Give us no more, but only let us free;
We faint beneath your kindness overburdened.
Shall clouds with bounty of the earth and sea
Fulfilled, let the good world go unguerdoned? "
O song, the long-committed fires impart!
O tears, release the secret of the heart!
W HEN all the holy primal part of me
Arises up within me to salute
The glorious vision of the Earth and Sea,
Which are the kindred of the destitute;
When passionate and happy like a lover
I laugh and teaze the laughing winds, I twine
Aspiring arms about the clouds, I cover
The eager lips of Earth with lips of mine;
Oh, then I sob for words which are denied,
As living creatures buried sob for breath,
Who cannot stir, but keen with eyelids wide
Taste all the helpless agonies of death,
Growing to cold communion with the sod,
And perish broken-hearted, doubting God.
The lightning-stroke of fear hath oftentimes
Knocked out Aspark of speech on dumb men's tongues,
I fain would render out in clarion rhymes
This glorious air of Earth which fills my lungs;
The Sun, his birth, his ride, his solemn fall,
The rain, the lovely looks of English ground!
And happier larks make mention of them all
In sovereign springs of elemental sound.
But that diviner breath which through me blows,
Nor makes me prophesy nor lets me rest
(O happy lark to sing whate'er he knows!)
But aches uneased within me, unexprest;
For song still-born's a triply-heated fire,
Love disappointed, shame, and vain desire.
O happy lark to sing whate'er he knows,
In God's approval, dimly starring there
Whither by fiery stress of song he rose,
His chantry fixt in wandering aisles of air;
His song out-tops the riches of his thought,
Whom April field, and tree, and river's brim,
And quiet rains, and dazing sunshine taught
The high, transfigured sweetness of his hymn.
Sing for us all, my brother! lend your wings
To spirit away my yearning from the ground, —
'Twixt thanks and envy while another sings,
Dumb-devilled, flown with heady hopes and bound,
As, primed with sovereign flights the tied balloon
Tugs to be towering freely towards the moon.
I sob for words attuned to the pitch
Of high delight and wonder everywhere
Dinned in my ears, for words to paint the rich
Eyes'-festival of colour in the air:
Opulences, persuasions, tendernesses,
Nameless elations, strange familiar awes,
Tears mixt with laughter in divine distresses —
And all too shy, too rare for song's applause!
Largess thyself, large Giver: who but grudges
To drink of joy and know not where the fount is,
Heartbroke for debts of love the heart adjudges,
Confest a churl by unrequited bounties?
So many mercies throng my doors about,
No yearning word of thanks and praise can out.
No yearning word of thanks and praise can out!
The destined messengers of thankfulness
Rolled back upon me by the inbreaking rout
Struggle against them, chafing while they bless:
" Make way for us, make way for us! The red
Torch of the word unuttered sears our eyes,
And burns our palms, until we fire the dead
Blind world awaiting us to evangelize.
Give us no more, but only let us free;
We faint beneath your kindness overburdened.
Shall clouds with bounty of the earth and sea
Fulfilled, let the good world go unguerdoned? "
O song, the long-committed fires impart!
O tears, release the secret of the heart!