KARNAK
I
Of all earth's shrines this is the mightiest,
And none is elder. Pylon, obelisk,
Column enormous—seek or east or west,
No temple like to Karnak 'neath the disk
Of the far-searching sun. Since the first stone
Here lifted to the heavens its dumb appeal,
Empires and races to the dread unknown
Have past—gods great and small 'neath Time's slow wheel
Have fallen and been crusht;—the earth hath shaken
Ruin on ruin—desolate, dead, forsaken.
II
Since first these stones were laid, the solid world,
Ay, this whole, visible, infinite universe,
Hath shifted on its base; suns have been hurled
From heaven; the ever-circling spheres rehearse
A music new to men. Yet still doth run
This river, throbbing life through all its lands;
Those desert mountains lifted to the sun
Live as of old; and these devouring sands;
And, under the changing heavens, amazed, apart—
Still, still the same the insatiate human heart.
III
And Thou, Eternal, Thou art still the same;
Thou unto whom the first, sad, questioning face
Yearned, for a refuge from the insentient frame
Of matter that doth grind us; seeking grace
From powers imagined 'gainst the powers we know;—
Some charm to avert the whirlwind, bring the tide
And harvest; turn the blind and awful flow
Of nature! Thou Eternal dost abide
Silent forever, like the unanswering skies
That send but empty echoes to men's cries!
IV
But not in temples now man's only hope,
Nor secret ministries of king and priest
Chanting beyond dark gates that never ope
Unto the people; now no hornèd beast
Looms 'twixt the worshiper and the adored,
Nor any creature's likeness; He remains
Unknown as erst; yet Him whom we call Lord
Is worshiped in the fields as in the fanes.
We have but faith; we know not; yet He seems
More near, more human, in our passionate dreams.
V
We know not, yet the centuries in their course
Have built an image in the mind of man;
We have but faith, yet that mysterious Force
Less darkly threatens, looms a friendlier plan.
Far off the singing of the morning stars,
Yet age by age such words of light are spoken
(Like whispered messages through prison bars),
Sometimes men deem the dreadful silence broken,
And hearts that late were famished and afeared
Leap to the Voice and onward fare well cheered.
VI
Cheered for a little season, but the morrow
Brings the old heartbreak; gone is all the gain;
Tho' the bowed soul be schooled to its own sorrow,
Ah, heaven! to feel earth's heritage of pain,—
The unescapable anguish of mankind,
That blots out natural joy!—O human soul,
Learn Courage, tho' the lightning strike thee blind;
Let Duty be thy worship; Love, thy goal:
Love, Duty, Courage—these make thou thy own,
Till from the unknown we pass into the unknown.
