 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
307
GOD'S FUNERAL
I
I saw a slowly-stepping train—Lined on the brows, scoop-eyed and bent and hoar—
Following in files across a twilit plain
A strange and mystic form the foremost bore.
II
And by contagious throbs of thoughtOr latent knowledge that within me lay
And had already stirred me, I was wrought
To consciousness of sorrow even as they.
III
The fore-borne shape, to my blurred eyes,At first seemed man-like, and anon to change
To an amorphous cloud of marvellous size,
At times endowed with wings of glorious range.
IV
And this phantasmal variousnessEver possessed it as they drew along:
Yet throughout all it symboled none the less
Potency vast and loving-kindness strong.
V
Almost before I knew I bentTowards the moving columns without a word;
They, growing in bulk and numbers as they went,
Struck out sick thoughts that could be overheard:—
VI
“O man-projected Figure, of lateImaged as we, thy knell who shall survive?
Whence came it we were tempted to create
One whom we can no longer keep alive?
308
VII
“Framing him jealous, fierce, at first,We gave him justice as the ages rolled,
Will to bless those by circumstance accurst,
And longsuffering, and mercies manifold.
VIII
“And, tricked by our own early dreamAnd need of solace, we grew self-deceived,
Our making soon our maker did we deem,
And what we had imagined we believed.
IX
“Till, in Time's stayless stealthy swing,Uncompromising rude reality
Mangled the Monarch of our fashioning,
Who quavered, sank; and now has ceased to be.
X
“So, toward our myth's oblivion,Darkling, and languid-lipped, we creep and grope
Sadlier than those who wept in Babylon,
Whose Zion was a still abiding hope.
XI
“How sweet it was in years far hiedTo start the wheels of day with trustful prayer,
To lie down liegely at the eventide
And feel a blest assurance he was there!
XII
“And who or what shall fill his place?Whither will wanderers turn distracted eyes
For some fixed star to stimulate their pace
Towards the goal of their enterprise?” . . .
XIII
Some in the background then I saw,Sweet women, youths, men, all incredulous,
309
This requiem mockery! Still he lives to us!”
XIV
I could not buoy their faith: and yetMany I had known: with all I sympathized;
And though struck speechless, I did not forget
That what was mourned for, I, too, long had prized.
XV
Still, how to bear such loss I deemedThe insistent question for each animate mind,
And gazing, to my growing sight there seemed
A pale yet positive gleam low down behind,
XVI
Whereof, to lift the general night,A certain few who stood aloof had said,
“See you upon the horizon that small light—
Swelling somewhat?” Each mourner shook his head.
XVII
And they composed a crowd of whomSome were right good, and many nigh the best. . . .
Thus dazed and puzzled 'twixt the gleam and gloom
Mechanically I followed with the rest.
1908–10.
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |