 | Lyrical Poems |  |
204
VOX DEI
I trod the bitter streets, that bear alike
The steps of want and wealth, success and woe;
Man's work, yet stern to man, as some frore peak
Of granite-cloaking snow;
Refugeless though secure; enduring; bleak.
The steps of want and wealth, success and woe;
Man's work, yet stern to man, as some frore peak
Of granite-cloaking snow;
Refugeless though secure; enduring; bleak.
They pass, these souls beneath the mask of man,
Veil'd each from each, in moving prisons pent:—
Whence come and whither going, who should say?
But each pursues intent
A common impulse, and a various way.
Veil'd each from each, in moving prisons pent:—
Whence come and whither going, who should say?
But each pursues intent
A common impulse, and a various way.
Ah not alone along the streets, O men,
Whence come, and whither going!—Is this all,
The things we feel and see; the petty past
That each one can recall,
The petty future that our eyes forecast?
Whence come, and whither going!—Is this all,
The things we feel and see; the petty past
That each one can recall,
The petty future that our eyes forecast?
205
—Within the holy haunts of ancient hills,
Or some cool meadow by Kephísus stream,
The fair philosophies of old were born;
And, blending truth with dream,
Breathed the soul's freshness and the light of morn.
Or some cool meadow by Kephísus stream,
The fair philosophies of old were born;
And, blending truth with dream,
Breathed the soul's freshness and the light of morn.
Well suits the tenour of the stony streets
The townbred science of our senile day,
To cell and current chasing down the soul,—
Far as she dares, the sway
Of fate and matter broadening o'er the whole.
The townbred science of our senile day,
To cell and current chasing down the soul,—
Far as she dares, the sway
Of fate and matter broadening o'er the whole.
Is this enough, to sink into the sum
Of the vague being of ‘collective Man?’
Enough, to toil and learn and wed and rear,
And make life all we can,
A first-class animal our highest sphere?
Of the vague being of ‘collective Man?’
Enough, to toil and learn and wed and rear,
And make life all we can,
A first-class animal our highest sphere?
Is it true science by ‘stern fact’ to bound
The knowable? From the heart the heart to screen?
In ‘certainties of sense’ to dwell alone,
Scorning all things unseen,
Ignoring all experience save our own?
The knowable? From the heart the heart to screen?
In ‘certainties of sense’ to dwell alone,
Scorning all things unseen,
Ignoring all experience save our own?
206
Pride's limitations mask'd in modesty!
Better the scream of atheist despair,
The servile ritual of the fetish shrine,
Than that complacent air,
That ceremonial bow to the Divine!
Better the scream of atheist despair,
The servile ritual of the fetish shrine,
Than that complacent air,
That ceremonial bow to the Divine!
Ah! something more the suffering multitude
Than Fate's ‘inexorable logic’ need!
Than acquiescence in the ‘sum of things’!
Nor does their deathbed heed
The doubtful aid the nature-prophet brings.
Than Fate's ‘inexorable logic’ need!
Than acquiescence in the ‘sum of things’!
Nor does their deathbed heed
The doubtful aid the nature-prophet brings.
To see right done at last; Good all in all;
To love and to be loved unendingly;
Once more the long-lost faces recognize;—
The heart's instinctive cry
Such nunc dimittis only satisfies.
To love and to be loved unendingly;
Once more the long-lost faces recognize;—
The heart's instinctive cry
Such nunc dimittis only satisfies.
O mockery, o'er the beasts by Faith, by Love,
By Hope, to rise, and Knowledge,—and be trod
All into clay at last, beneath the frown
Of an ironic God
Lifting man high, more deeply to cast down!
By Hope, to rise, and Knowledge,—and be trod
All into clay at last, beneath the frown
Of an ironic God
Lifting man high, more deeply to cast down!
207
Yet has he not, God living in the heart,
(Though by man's partial science veil'd from man,
Or by dark clouds of passionate despair,)
Hid all his mystic plan,
Or left us of his being unaware.
(Though by man's partial science veil'd from man,
Or by dark clouds of passionate despair,)
Hid all his mystic plan,
Or left us of his being unaware.
O deep assurance that the wrongs of life
Will find their perfect guerdon! That the scheme
So broken here, will elsewhere be fulfill'd!
Hope not a dreamer's dream!
Love's long last yearnings satisfied, not still'd!
Will find their perfect guerdon! That the scheme
So broken here, will elsewhere be fulfill'd!
Hope not a dreamer's dream!
Love's long last yearnings satisfied, not still'd!
O message of the mind not less assured
Than that which at her gate the senses lay
And she interprets: Oracles of the soul
Of more imperial sway
Than aught that Nature brings us from the Whole,
Than that which at her gate the senses lay
And she interprets: Oracles of the soul
Of more imperial sway
Than aught that Nature brings us from the Whole,
And higher essence: From the mind herself
Inly developed: Born again as fair
In every child on life's stern struggle thrown,
As when Man's godlike air
First startled Earth her new-found king to own!
Inly developed: Born again as fair
In every child on life's stern struggle thrown,
As when Man's godlike air
First startled Earth her new-found king to own!
208
—I trod of late the bitter streets, that bear
The steps of want and wealth impassively;
Where men like heartless puppets come and go;
Business and Vanity,
And selfish scheming, and well-acted woe.
The steps of want and wealth impassively;
Where men like heartless puppets come and go;
Business and Vanity,
And selfish scheming, and well-acted woe.
What heaven-sent impulse of humanity,
On these chill ruthless pavements can be bred?
What plant of grace, methought, could here have root?
Shroud-like the skies and dead;
And God and holy Nature quite shut out.
On these chill ruthless pavements can be bred?
What plant of grace, methought, could here have root?
Shroud-like the skies and dead;
And God and holy Nature quite shut out.
—It was a child of eight who swept the way
Where mine cross'd her's that morning; hunger-white;
Clad in rags not her own: yet keeping still
Something of childhood's light;
Blithe at her task, not wholly tamed to ill.
Where mine cross'd her's that morning; hunger-white;
Clad in rags not her own: yet keeping still
Something of childhood's light;
Blithe at her task, not wholly tamed to ill.
Hardly she dared to ask the bread I gave,
And took as one misdoubting her delight:—
Then eyed the store a moment, and in haste
Folding her treasure tight,
With little fingers bound it at her waist.
And took as one misdoubting her delight:—
Then eyed the store a moment, and in haste
Folding her treasure tight,
With little fingers bound it at her waist.
209
‘'Twas brought from home,’ I said, ‘she need not fear’:
And bade her eat, and as she turn'd to flee
Held her; ‘she must be hungry’; but 'twas vain:
She heard a stronger plea,
The baby voices crying in their pain
And bade her eat, and as she turn'd to flee
Held her; ‘she must be hungry’; but 'twas vain:
She heard a stronger plea,
The baby voices crying in their pain
By the black fire-less hearth, unsatisfied.
‘They must have some! the children want it so’!
—Her tears were nigh; her whole heart homeward bent—
‘Now would you let me go’?—
And God was with the little feet that went.
‘They must have some! the children want it so’!
—Her tears were nigh; her whole heart homeward bent—
‘Now would you let me go’?—
And God was with the little feet that went.
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