 | Poems by Henry Septimus Sutton |  |
203
THE BATTLE OF GOD.
Ah, what a day was that! A sweeter ne'er
Oped wonderingly its gentle eyelids mild
On the warm breast of any nursing year.
As looks and smiles a mother on her child,
So Nature on that young morn look'd and smiled.
Oped wonderingly its gentle eyelids mild
On the warm breast of any nursing year.
As looks and smiles a mother on her child,
So Nature on that young morn look'd and smiled.
She wrapp'd it in a robe of fleeciest sky;
Trimm'd it afresh those lamps the poet sees
Burn every flower in odours secretly;
Of each bloom-breathing wind she had, did seize
The richest moments; then said, ‘Dear, take these!’
Trimm'd it afresh those lamps the poet sees
Burn every flower in odours secretly;
Of each bloom-breathing wind she had, did seize
The richest moments; then said, ‘Dear, take these!’
On that same day magnifical, great joy
Lay landscape-like a certain man before,
To whom it seemed there could be no employ
Awaited or conceived, save only o'er
Wide wilds of bliss to wander evermore.
Lay landscape-like a certain man before,
To whom it seemed there could be no employ
Awaited or conceived, save only o'er
Wide wilds of bliss to wander evermore.
204
Then in the chamber of his heart there came
A whisper of the Voice that still will bless;—
A naming of the everlasting Name;—
A Presence working the glad heart to impress,
And warm its each beat into thankfulness;—
A whisper of the Voice that still will bless;—
A naming of the everlasting Name;—
A Presence working the glad heart to impress,
And warm its each beat into thankfulness;—
A sense as when a babe, half-sleeping, lies,
And with a gradual dawning comes aware,—
Less by the actual warrant of the eyes,
Than by the consciousness of tenderest care,—
Of presence of its watchful mother there.
And with a gradual dawning comes aware,—
Less by the actual warrant of the eyes,
Than by the consciousness of tenderest care,—
Of presence of its watchful mother there.
And then he heard a solemn, priest-like sound,
Given in his inner spirit, to convey
A sense of ceasing, perfect and profound,—
As if all things around had paused, to say
‘Here endeth the first lesson. Let us pray!’
Given in his inner spirit, to convey
A sense of ceasing, perfect and profound,—
As if all things around had paused, to say
‘Here endeth the first lesson. Let us pray!’
And soon a sob, a sinking, and a sigh,
A trance, a breathless sleep with open eye;
And then a vision stretching heaven-high,
Of loves that kneel and sing, and thoughts that thank,
Incarnate all, like angels rank o'er rank.
A trance, a breathless sleep with open eye;
And then a vision stretching heaven-high,
Of loves that kneel and sing, and thoughts that thank,
Incarnate all, like angels rank o'er rank.
205
Out of which heavenly trance ere long he strayed
Where lo! with flowery streets, umbrageous greens,
And palaces, old earth was happy made;
Happy all over with such perfect scenes
As poet, heaven on earth foreseeing, means;—
Where lo! with flowery streets, umbrageous greens,
And palaces, old earth was happy made;
Happy all over with such perfect scenes
As poet, heaven on earth foreseeing, means;—
O blessëd vision of old earth new-made;
The law divine unquestioned and obeyed;
Trod down for ever all things that degrade;
All life by art and poetry refined;
And God-love, man-love, blessing all mankind!
The law divine unquestioned and obeyed;
Trod down for ever all things that degrade;
All life by art and poetry refined;
And God-love, man-love, blessing all mankind!
Was this mere idle dream,—as when, in car
Pendent from earth, in space's solar sea,
With our great globe balloon-wise over me,
I seem'd to float once, voyaging afar
Past moon and planet, nebula and star?
Pendent from earth, in space's solar sea,
With our great globe balloon-wise over me,
I seem'd to float once, voyaging afar
Past moon and planet, nebula and star?
Or was that better earth an orb that goes
In company with our earth, undescried,
As in dead night a traveller walks and knows
Naught of the angel who upon that wide
And desolate heath moves, silent, by his side?
In company with our earth, undescried,
As in dead night a traveller walks and knows
Naught of the angel who upon that wide
And desolate heath moves, silent, by his side?
206
Or was this the great vision that still waits
To enter as a fact earth's opening gates;—
A fact which all the prophets true foretell;—
An earth where Christ as King and Lord shall dwell,
In world where all is new, and all is well?
To enter as a fact earth's opening gates;—
A fact which all the prophets true foretell;—
An earth where Christ as King and Lord shall dwell,
In world where all is new, and all is well?
So strive, so reign, Almighty Lord of all!
So greatly win Thy planet-victory!
So gloriously what baffleth bring in thrall!
So strongly work, earth's lasting jubilee
With gladness and with singing to install!
So greatly win Thy planet-victory!
So gloriously what baffleth bring in thrall!
So strongly work, earth's lasting jubilee
With gladness and with singing to install!
And man may work with the great God! Yea, ours
This privilege—all others how beyond!—
To tend the great Man-root until it flowers;
To scorn with godly laughter when despond
Tamely before a hoary hindrance cowers;
This privilege—all others how beyond!—
To tend the great Man-root until it flowers;
To scorn with godly laughter when despond
Tamely before a hoary hindrance cowers;
Effectually the planet to subdue,
And break old savagehood in claw and tusk;
That noble end to trust in and pursue
Which under Nature's half-expressive husk
Lies ever to the base concealed from view;
And break old savagehood in claw and tusk;
That noble end to trust in and pursue
Which under Nature's half-expressive husk
Lies ever to the base concealed from view;
207
To draw our fellows up, as with a cord
Of love, unto their high appointed place;
Till from our state barbaric and abhorred
We do arise unto a royal race,
Becoming blessëd children of the Lord.
Of love, unto their high appointed place;
Till from our state barbaric and abhorred
We do arise unto a royal race,
Becoming blessëd children of the Lord.
| Poems by Henry Septimus Sutton | |