 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
L'ENVOI.
ω θανατε παιαν.
O blessèed Death! O white-wing'd form
Still winging through the night!
O Dove, that seekest through the storm
Some lonely Ark of Light!
Still winging through the night!
O Dove, that seekest through the storm
Some lonely Ark of Light!
While the dark flood of human pain
Rises with weariest moans,
Touching and falling back again
From heaven's deserted thrones,
Rises with weariest moans,
Touching and falling back again
From heaven's deserted thrones,
Thou wanderest on with wondrous wings
On that celestial quest!
And looking on thee, weary things
Sob tearfully and rest!
On that celestial quest!
And looking on thee, weary things
Sob tearfully and rest!
161
What were the world and what were Man
Without thee, heavenly Death?
An empty sky; a starless span,
A mist of troubled breath!
Without thee, heavenly Death?
An empty sky; a starless span,
A mist of troubled breath!
The one thing sure, the one thing pure,
The one thing all divine,
Though all else ceases, doth endure,
Though all grows dark, doth shine!
The one thing all divine,
Though all else ceases, doth endure,
Though all grows dark, doth shine!
Our souls have probed this world of clay,
And measured the great sea,
Our sight hath conquer'd night and day,
But still thou soarest free!
And measured the great sea,
Our sight hath conquer'd night and day,
But still thou soarest free!
Wisdom hath cried, ‘No God! not one!
Nay, heaven and earth shall cease!’
But as thou passest, winging on,
We hush our cries in peace.
Nay, heaven and earth shall cease!’
But as thou passest, winging on,
We hush our cries in peace.
For all things fade, save thou alone,
Bird of the sleepless wing!
From world to world, from zone to zone,
We see thee voyaging!
Bird of the sleepless wing!
From world to world, from zone to zone,
We see thee voyaging!
Angel of God, still homeless here,
Now clouds have hid God's face,—
Bright Dove that on these waves of fear
Can find no resting-place!
Now clouds have hid God's face,—
Bright Dove that on these waves of fear
Can find no resting-place!
O blessèd Death,—O Angel fair,
Still keep thy course divine!
Till o'er the flood of our despair
The Bow of God doth shine!
Still keep thy course divine!
Till o'er the flood of our despair
The Bow of God doth shine!
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |