 | The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan |  |
343
‘THESE VOICES.’
These voices! Hark, Buchanan! All about thee,
In the night-time, in the day-time, they are crying!
Within thee they are sounding, yet without thee,
Ever growing on thy sense, and ever dying!
In the night-time, in the day-time, they are crying!
Within thee they are sounding, yet without thee,
Ever growing on thy sense, and ever dying!
Sounds of weeping, sounds of jubilance and singing,
Sobs of terror and of pain, and sighs of sorrow;
And their echoes thro' thine inmost Soul are ringing,
While thy soul looks forth in wonder night and morrow.
Sobs of terror and of pain, and sighs of sorrow;
And their echoes thro' thine inmost Soul are ringing,
While thy soul looks forth in wonder night and morrow.
Nay, but listen! . . . 'Tis the children's cry of gladness:
Nay, but look! They smile with rosy faces hither!
. . . But alas! the little shapes that sit in sadness,
And the little broken lives that droop and wither!
Nay, but look! They smile with rosy faces hither!
. . . But alas! the little shapes that sit in sadness,
And the little broken lives that droop and wither!
Hear the strong man in the dark for pity crying,
Hear the foul man's word of hate as he goes by thee;
Hear the shriek of trampled women, vainly flying
From the phantoms that appal thee and defy thee!
Hear the foul man's word of hate as he goes by thee;
Hear the shriek of trampled women, vainly flying
From the phantoms that appal thee and defy thee!
Ah, the Voices! and the Faces!—all the pity
And the wonder, in this vision of the Human,
All the lightness and the darkness of the City,
All the beauty and the shame of man and woman!
And the wonder, in this vision of the Human,
All the lightness and the darkness of the City,
All the beauty and the shame of man and woman!
All the foul things God would seem to put His ban on,
All the fair things that would seem to have His blessing—
Without thee yet within thee, O Buchanan,
They are thronging, with a riddle for thy guessing!
All the fair things that would seem to have His blessing—
Without thee yet within thee, O Buchanan,
They are thronging, with a riddle for thy guessing!
Canst thou answer? Hath the living Soul within thee
Any token, any beauteous explanation?
Is it silent? Then Eternal Night shall win thee,
And these Souls but knell thy Soul's annihilation!
Any token, any beauteous explanation?
Is it silent? Then Eternal Night shall win thee,
And these Souls but knell thy Soul's annihilation!
Shall these Voices die to one Voice,—thine upbraiding
Of the power which brings and takes thee out of being?
Shall these Faces fade to one—thine own face, fading
Back to darkness, in the very act of seeing?
Of the power which brings and takes thee out of being?
Shall these Faces fade to one—thine own face, fading
Back to darkness, in the very act of seeing?
Ah, the Voices! and the Faces!—wild and wan, on
They are rushing, to destroy or to renew thee!
Like a foam-flake shalt thou vanish, O Buchanan,
If but one of these is lost that cry unto thee!
They are rushing, to destroy or to renew thee!
Like a foam-flake shalt thou vanish, O Buchanan,
If but one of these is lost that cry unto thee!
| The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan | |