The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan In Two Volumes. With a Portrait |
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 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
I.
What Shape is this with hands outreaching,
Walking the waters of Hell, and preaching?
The waves are rolling beneath and glistening,
Each breaking wave is a white face, listening!
Walking the waters of Hell, and preaching?
The waves are rolling beneath and glistening,
Each breaking wave is a white face, listening!
The rift is roaring, the rain is moaning—
His robe streams back as He stands intoning;
With jet-black troughs the mad seas break at Him,
And the lightning springs, like a hissing snake, at Him!
His robe streams back as He stands intoning;
With jet-black troughs the mad seas break at Him,
And the lightning springs, like a hissing snake, at Him!
God, doth He guess any soul can hear Him,
With the wind so wailing, the storm so near Him?
Yet now and then sounds His voice of wonder there,
Like the plash of a shower in the pause of thunder, there.
With the wind so wailing, the storm so near Him?
Yet now and then sounds His voice of wonder there,
Like the plash of a shower in the pause of thunder, there.
The Devil sits by those waters evil,
Pensive, as is the wont of the Devil,
So bored and blasé his expression is
None would guess what his true profession is.
Pensive, as is the wont of the Devil,
So bored and blasé his expression is
None would guess what his true profession is.
The waters and he are tired together
Of such eternally stormy weather;
Always that wind is roaring busily,
Till the heart feels faint and the head rocks dizzily.
Of such eternally stormy weather;
Always that wind is roaring busily,
Till the heart feels faint and the head rocks dizzily.
Always gusty both night and morrow!
No wonder the Devil is full of sorrow,
No wonder he sneers at the Figure preaching there
With bright eyes burning and hands outreaching there.
No wonder the Devil is full of sorrow,
No wonder he sneers at the Figure preaching there
With bright eyes burning and hands outreaching there.
The Devil thinks, ‘What use of trying
To preach a sermon 'midst such a crying?
If He bade the Almighty close His batteries,
The damn'd beneath Him might guess what the matter is!’
To preach a sermon 'midst such a crying?
If He bade the Almighty close His batteries,
The damn'd beneath Him might guess what the matter is!’
And lo! the Figure with white robe streaming
Raises His hand while the winds are screaming—
As He stood on the earth when the Pharisees found Him,
He stands, and the same Storm beats around Him.
Raises His hand while the winds are screaming—
As He stood on the earth when the Pharisees found Him,
He stands, and the same Storm beats around Him.
As long ago 'neath the empyrean
He walked on the waters Galilean,
With only the poor damn'd souls to discern it, He
Walks, and has walked through a long eternity!
He walked on the waters Galilean,
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Walks, and has walked through a long eternity!
God with the still small voice's calling!
Soft as rain on the grass 'tis falling,
Yet little blame to the souls who are near to it
If they break and groan and give no ear to it!
Soft as rain on the grass 'tis falling,
Yet little blame to the souls who are near to it
If they break and groan and give no ear to it!
Something it is for the damn'd below Him
To see the patient Figure and know Him! . . . .
What a wind! what a raining and roaring now!
Lightning, thunder, and black rain pouring now!
To see the patient Figure and know Him! . . . .
What a wind! what a raining and roaring now!
Lightning, thunder, and black rain pouring now!
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |