 | The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite |  |
IN ARIDITY
The road is brown; a hundred yards below
It dives full steeply—aspen, elm and ash,
Make shade and music round it. Heaven has rain'd
Through all the morn, but now the August sun
Is warm and brilliant, flooding mead and down:
Far hills are flooded, tiles of gabled farms
And distant churches glow. . . . I gaze on all
The manifested beauties of the world,
And have not lost that vivid sense of charm
Which all can weave. The power of speech is mine,
The strength of love—why seems the tide of song
Arrested in me? Thou inspiring God,
By bard and prophet commonly invoked,
One in thy varied names, on Thee I call:
Forsake me not! Abide in song with me!
The grace of inspiration still vouchsafe!
One soul in all I see reveal'd beneath
This constant flux and sheen of outward things.
I stand by hedges, where the fern and oak
With modest hawthorn interweave and blend
Sun-metamorphosed tints of greenery;
And there the gnat, which buzzes in the air
A busy message of continual life;
The cool fresh wind, which stirs in flower and frond,
In leaf and twig, in every blade of grass—
Which tempers summer at its thirsting noon—
These wake some random thought to bless my life,
As dews bless eve. Descend once more on me—
Descend; I summon in the name of all
Which soothes and vivifies—thou fire of God!
Transform the world! Thou inner sense of sight,
Transform my soul!
It dives full steeply—aspen, elm and ash,
Make shade and music round it. Heaven has rain'd
Through all the morn, but now the August sun
Is warm and brilliant, flooding mead and down:
Far hills are flooded, tiles of gabled farms
230
The manifested beauties of the world,
And have not lost that vivid sense of charm
Which all can weave. The power of speech is mine,
The strength of love—why seems the tide of song
Arrested in me? Thou inspiring God,
By bard and prophet commonly invoked,
One in thy varied names, on Thee I call:
Forsake me not! Abide in song with me!
The grace of inspiration still vouchsafe!
One soul in all I see reveal'd beneath
This constant flux and sheen of outward things.
I stand by hedges, where the fern and oak
With modest hawthorn interweave and blend
Sun-metamorphosed tints of greenery;
And there the gnat, which buzzes in the air
A busy message of continual life;
The cool fresh wind, which stirs in flower and frond,
In leaf and twig, in every blade of grass—
Which tempers summer at its thirsting noon—
These wake some random thought to bless my life,
As dews bless eve. Descend once more on me—
Descend; I summon in the name of all
Which soothes and vivifies—thou fire of God!
Transform the world! Thou inner sense of sight,
Transform my soul!
The fountain seal'd awhile
Is open'd now; the speech from heaven descends—
From that intolerable, azure sky,
Which holds no cloud to stain its virgin depths,
It does descend—and Ave, Ave, Earth!
The Poet cries; the Priest of Nature puts
His vestments on, the prophet's mantle wears,
And offers praise again. A thousand trees
Take up the message; may the winds prolong—
Those distant hills re-echo—all is song!
Is open'd now; the speech from heaven descends—
From that intolerable, azure sky,
Which holds no cloud to stain its virgin depths,
It does descend—and Ave, Ave, Earth!
The Poet cries; the Priest of Nature puts
His vestments on, the prophet's mantle wears,
And offers praise again. A thousand trees
Take up the message; may the winds prolong—
Those distant hills re-echo—all is song!
| The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite | |