 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
MOMENTS OF VISION.
I.
One came to me, and led me by the hand,
And took me from the city far away;
Bright was the sun, and loud with wind the day,
And on we wended till we took our stand
Where mighty waters broke against the land.
Bright in the sunlight shone the shivering spray,
While, loud as monsters roaring after prey,
Roared the strong waters laboring up the strand:
And took me from the city far away;
Bright was the sun, and loud with wind the day,
And on we wended till we took our stand
Where mighty waters broke against the land.
Bright in the sunlight shone the shivering spray,
While, loud as monsters roaring after prey,
Roared the strong waters laboring up the strand:
And through their roar an inner note I caught
Of passionate remembrance; and mine eyes
Beheld a light long lost and vainly sought.
My heart was stormed by a divine surprise;
For, lo! this was the sea, — even she who wrought
For the dead boy miraculous ecstasies.
Of passionate remembrance; and mine eyes
Beheld a light long lost and vainly sought.
My heart was stormed by a divine surprise;
For, lo! this was the sea, — even she who wrought
For the dead boy miraculous ecstasies.
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II.
So once in Summer walking 'mid the hills,
What time the twilight clothes them with her peace,
And birds fly home to rest in deep-leaved trees
Through which a last, low song one moment thrills,
Then ceases; and the unobtrusive rills
Babble along their ways, and small winds cease,
And in their soft, blue spaces stars increase
Before the moon of Heaven her light fulfils, —
What time the twilight clothes them with her peace,
And birds fly home to rest in deep-leaved trees
Through which a last, low song one moment thrills,
Then ceases; and the unobtrusive rills
Babble along their ways, and small winds cease,
And in their soft, blue spaces stars increase
Before the moon of Heaven her light fulfils, —
Through that deep peace, long seen though unfelt long,
As from a land divine and most remote
Wherein alone do pale-mouthed dreams make song,
The ancient peace of boyhood seemed to float;
O heart of Heaven! deep rest and undefiled
Needs the man less than the untroubled child?
As from a land divine and most remote
Wherein alone do pale-mouthed dreams make song,
The ancient peace of boyhood seemed to float;
O heart of Heaven! deep rest and undefiled
Needs the man less than the untroubled child?
III.
Then spoke a low, clear voice to me and said:
“What knew the boy of the hot strife for fame,
Or love that often slighted turns to shame?
Ambition's curse you drew upon your head,
And with strange food unnatural hungers stayed;
Then ghosts, with tongues against you to declaim,
With cruel, deriding lips, and eyes of flame,
Filled all your sleep with sorrow and sick dread.
“What knew the boy of the hot strife for fame,
Or love that often slighted turns to shame?
Ambition's curse you drew upon your head,
And with strange food unnatural hungers stayed;
Then ghosts, with tongues against you to declaim,
With cruel, deriding lips, and eyes of flame,
Filled all your sleep with sorrow and sick dread.
“Good gifts I, Nature, gave you, — storm and rest,
Sundawn and sunset, and the shade profound.
‘Good gifts!’ you laugh, ‘but man must be renowned,
So I will forth. nor weary in the quest
Till mighty gods my ambitious brows have crowned.’
Lo, the lost child! Lo, the forsaken breast!”
Sundawn and sunset, and the shade profound.
‘Good gifts!’ you laugh, ‘but man must be renowned,
So I will forth. nor weary in the quest
Till mighty gods my ambitious brows have crowned.’
Lo, the lost child! Lo, the forsaken breast!”
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |