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 | The candle in the cabin |  |
37
THE PARABLE OF DEEPNESS
“In Glacier Park is a bottomless lake,” said a guide on the east side to me.
“If you tie a big rock to a system of clothes lines,
Tied end to end, forever and ever,
You will find it more deep than the sea.”
“Now where is this lake?” I asked the smart guide.
“West of the Ranges,” said he.
“If you tie a big rock to a system of clothes lines,
Tied end to end, forever and ever,
You will find it more deep than the sea.”
“Now where is this lake?” I asked the smart guide.
“West of the Ranges,” said he.
“In Glacier Park is a bottomless lake,” said a guide on the west side to me.
“If you let down a system of trout lines and wire,
Tying on more, all your heart may desire,
With a horseshoe for plumb on the end of the string,
You cannot determine the depth of the thing.
You will find it more deep than the sea.”
“Now where is this lake?” I asked that gay guide.
“East of the Ranges,” said he.
“If you let down a system of trout lines and wire,
Tying on more, all your heart may desire,
With a horseshoe for plumb on the end of the string,
You cannot determine the depth of the thing.
You will find it more deep than the sea.”
“Now where is this lake?” I asked that gay guide.
“East of the Ranges,” said he.
“In the ocean there sure is a bottomless place,”
Said a sailor in New York harbor to me.
“If you let down a cable with plummets to fit
You will find it more deep than the bottomless pit.
It's a terrible place to get drownded at sea—
We cannot dive down and rescuers be.”
“Now where is this water?” I asked the salt sailor.
“Just south of the North Pole,” said he.
Said a sailor in New York harbor to me.
“If you let down a cable with plummets to fit
You will find it more deep than the bottomless pit.
It's a terrible place to get drownded at sea—
We cannot dive down and rescuers be.”
“Now where is this water?” I asked the salt sailor.
“Just south of the North Pole,” said he.
38
“In the ocean there sure is a bottomless place,”
Said a San Francisco sailor to me.
“The sea spiders come when we ship in that sea
And they fasten their threads to the ribs of the ship,
Shark-proof-silk, resisting the lip
Of sharks of the highest or lowest degree.
And the spiders spin down, and swim down, and dive down,
And bite everything in the green-weed-town,
And clear things away, and swim down, and say:—
‘Oh where is the floor of this fathomless sea?’
But the sea is as deep as the bottomless pit.
No spider has ever dived down into it,
Not a spider of highest or lowest degree.”
“Now where is this water?” I asked the proud sailor.
“Just north of the South Pole,” said he.
Said a San Francisco sailor to me.
“The sea spiders come when we ship in that sea
And they fasten their threads to the ribs of the ship,
Shark-proof-silk, resisting the lip
Of sharks of the highest or lowest degree.
And the spiders spin down, and swim down, and dive down,
And bite everything in the green-weed-town,
And clear things away, and swim down, and say:—
‘Oh where is the floor of this fathomless sea?’
But the sea is as deep as the bottomless pit.
No spider has ever dived down into it,
Not a spider of highest or lowest degree.”
“Now where is this water?” I asked the proud sailor.
“Just north of the South Pole,” said he.
Now the China boy there in the chop suey dive
Serving us whisky in tea
Sat down and continued the epic of deepness,
Delighting the salt and his sweetie and me.
He said, “There's a well in Confucius' back yard
Overhung by a plain little cinnamon tree.
The well has run dry, but is deep as the sky.
There's a star day and night you can see
If you put your fool head in the shadowy boughs,
Looking down through black leaves of the cinnamon tree.
Serving us whisky in tea
Sat down and continued the epic of deepness,
Delighting the salt and his sweetie and me.
He said, “There's a well in Confucius' back yard
Overhung by a plain little cinnamon tree.
The well has run dry, but is deep as the sky.
There's a star day and night you can see
If you put your fool head in the shadowy boughs,
39
“You can let down a kite string as long as a river
And tie on bright jades that will glitter and quiver,
In the light of the star in the depths of the well.
It goes down like the slenderest glittering dragon,
And passes all side-doors and cellars of Hell,
Making dry rainbows there in the flagon.
No thread has ever gone down to the star,
The jewelled lost hub of Confucius' blue car.”
“Now where is this well?” inquired the gay sailor.
“I would like to go there with a spider and trailer.”
“In Confucius' back yard,” said the boy with a stare.
“I'm American born and have never been there,
But I heard my great-grandfather say it was there.”
And tie on bright jades that will glitter and quiver,
In the light of the star in the depths of the well.
It goes down like the slenderest glittering dragon,
And passes all side-doors and cellars of Hell,
Making dry rainbows there in the flagon.
No thread has ever gone down to the star,
The jewelled lost hub of Confucius' blue car.”
“Now where is this well?” inquired the gay sailor.
“I would like to go there with a spider and trailer.”
“In Confucius' back yard,” said the boy with a stare.
“I'm American born and have never been there,
But I heard my great-grandfather say it was there.”
When I climb on Sun-Mountain and look up at noon
Then new revelations of glory come soon
And the sky is a lake more deep than the dream
Of cowboy or sailor, or China boy gay.
And I need no kite strings to measure the way.
Then new revelations of glory come soon
And the sky is a lake more deep than the dream
Of cowboy or sailor, or China boy gay.
And I need no kite strings to measure the way.
When I sleep on that height
There is midnight more deep
Than the bottomless pit, or the seas, or the wells,
Or the wise men's great tales of sea spiders and hells.
There is midnight more deep
40
Or the wise men's great tales of sea spiders and hells.
When the great moon comes up
I lie in a sea
Where the moon is the ship of God comforting me,
But between are wonders more deep than ever may be
In the lonely and strange lost green floors of the sea,
Or the deep drowned flowers in the depths of the Polar Sea.
I lie in a sea
Where the moon is the ship of God comforting me,
But between are wonders more deep than ever may be
In the lonely and strange lost green floors of the sea,
Or the deep drowned flowers in the depths of the Polar Sea.
| The candle in the cabin | |