The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith ... Revised by the Author: Coll. ed. |
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The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | ||
So he forsook the priesthood just in time,
And only just in time; for there had been
Ominous whispers, here and there, about
Doctrine unsound, unsettling, dangerous,
In rural manses, and at cleric meetings;
In smithies too, and where the shuttle clicked,
Sharp wits discussed him, and the ploughman even
Ceased whistling in the furrow, brooding o'er
The thoughts that came to him, and drove his soul
From its old furrow into a fresh soil.
Unsettling and alarming! There was peace
While the tea-table gossiped, and the smith
Told his coarse stories to the laughing clowns
(Heard also by the maids that bleached the linen
Upon the green hard by)—peace when the weaver
Talked treason with his thin and blood-less lips,
Starved into revolutionary dreams—
And peace while men grew brutal as the steer
They harnessed to their plough! Then all went well;
There was no danger to alarm the Church!
But thought disturbs the world, and thought of God
Unsettles most of all; for it is life,
And only life can comprehend its force,
Or guide it. 'Tis as lightning in the cloud;
We know not what, or where its bolt may strike,
But fear for the church-steeples, and ourselves,
Nor dream there may be blessing even in it.
Yet there are surely times when there is nought
So needed as unsettling, just to get
Out of old ruts, and seek a nobler life.
Raban forsook the Church, whose service once
Had been his fond ambition. But ere that
There had been meetings of the cardinals
At the headquarters, moved thereto by letters,
Representations, visits, urging them
That something must be done to save the Faith
Which stood in peril from the hand of one
Who should have stayed the ark.
And only just in time; for there had been
Ominous whispers, here and there, about
Doctrine unsound, unsettling, dangerous,
In rural manses, and at cleric meetings;
In smithies too, and where the shuttle clicked,
Sharp wits discussed him, and the ploughman even
Ceased whistling in the furrow, brooding o'er
The thoughts that came to him, and drove his soul
From its old furrow into a fresh soil.
245
While the tea-table gossiped, and the smith
Told his coarse stories to the laughing clowns
(Heard also by the maids that bleached the linen
Upon the green hard by)—peace when the weaver
Talked treason with his thin and blood-less lips,
Starved into revolutionary dreams—
And peace while men grew brutal as the steer
They harnessed to their plough! Then all went well;
There was no danger to alarm the Church!
But thought disturbs the world, and thought of God
Unsettles most of all; for it is life,
And only life can comprehend its force,
Or guide it. 'Tis as lightning in the cloud;
We know not what, or where its bolt may strike,
But fear for the church-steeples, and ourselves,
Nor dream there may be blessing even in it.
Yet there are surely times when there is nought
So needed as unsettling, just to get
Out of old ruts, and seek a nobler life.
Raban forsook the Church, whose service once
Had been his fond ambition. But ere that
There had been meetings of the cardinals
At the headquarters, moved thereto by letters,
Representations, visits, urging them
That something must be done to save the Faith
Which stood in peril from the hand of one
Who should have stayed the ark.
High Cardinals
Bourgeon in all the churches; there red-stockinged,
And crimson-hatted — here in sober black;
Now bald with age, now shaven to look like age
And gravity; and mostly portly men
Of large discourse, and excellent taste in wines.
They cultivate the wisdom of the serpent,
And leave the rest to play the harmless dove,
Fulfilling thus the scripture by division
Of labour, as the modern law requires:—
You do the simple dove, as Christ enjoins,
And I will do the serpent. For the Church,
As a world-kingdom, they are worldly-wise,
Subtle diplomatists, far-seeing schemers
Of crafty policy, yet often men
Who would not sacrifice a dearest friend
For its advantage, sooner than themselves
Would bleed at the same altar; yet alas
They offer sometimes, what is holier still,
That charity which is the Church's life
For the world-kingdom which they call God's Church.
Bourgeon in all the churches; there red-stockinged,
And crimson-hatted — here in sober black;
Now bald with age, now shaven to look like age
And gravity; and mostly portly men
Of large discourse, and excellent taste in wines.
They cultivate the wisdom of the serpent,
And leave the rest to play the harmless dove,
Fulfilling thus the scripture by division
Of labour, as the modern law requires:—
You do the simple dove, as Christ enjoins,
And I will do the serpent. For the Church,
As a world-kingdom, they are worldly-wise,
Subtle diplomatists, far-seeing schemers
Of crafty policy, yet often men
Who would not sacrifice a dearest friend
For its advantage, sooner than themselves
Would bleed at the same altar; yet alas
They offer sometimes, what is holier still,
That charity which is the Church's life
For the world-kingdom which they call God's Church.
The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | ||