The Creed of My Heart and Other Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Creed of My Heart and Other Poems

By Edmond Holmes

Holmes, Edmond (1850-1936)

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[section]

THE CREED OF MY HEART

TO THE UNKNOWN GOD

TO DEATH

NIRVANA

MORNING TWILIGHT

THE SECRET OF THE SEA

SILENCE AND SONG OR THE NEMESIS OF JOY

A TRUE TALE OF THE FAR WEST

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TO DEATH

I

‘I ask not in what season I shall feel
Thy wintry kisses on my burning brow,
Nor when the balm of thy approach will heal
The wounds that wring me now.

II

‘I ask not when thy grey and gathered gloom
Must end the sunshine of these sparkling hours,
Nor when the March wind of thy breath must doom
Life and its laughing flowers.

III

‘I ask not what the span of circling years
That yet remains—for, be it long or brief,
Death still will clothe itself in chilling fears,
Still bring me sweet relief.

IV

‘Nor need I ask of thee in what a guise
Thou wilt draw near the threshold of my door:—
To see thee is a film before our eyes
That see and see no more.

V

‘It may be that a thorny path of pain—
A weary and interminable way—
Will lead me on through swamps of blinding rain,—
Whither? Ah! who shall say?

VI

‘Or haply on thy slowly heaving breast
Without a pang my soul will fall asleep,
As moonbeams glide into the gleaming rest
Of the enchanted deep.

VII

‘Or it may be that in a moment's space
The sudden quiver of a lightning flash
Will shrivel me to earth, nor grant me grace
To hear its thunder crash.

VIII

‘Or in a mountain tempest thou wilt come;
And through an hour of unavailing woe
Young life will struggle on—then faint and numb
Sink into drifts of snow.

IX

‘I know not;—but I know that, late or soon,
My heart must beat to feel thee drawing nigh—
Beat into stillness at thy touch, and swoon
Away from life—and die.

X

‘And there are times when I am quick to hear
Thy fancied footstep in a hush of sound:
There falls the shadow of a sudden fear—
I start and look around.

XI

‘What, even now the dream of thee can chill
My heart and rob life's sunshine of its charm!
O Death, there is one only way to still
These stirrings of alarm.

XII

‘In fancy I will see thee face to face,
And pluck the veil from thine abhorrèd brow,
And commune with thee for awhile—and trace
Thy ghastly features now.

XIII

‘And I will face thee in thy grimmest form—
With snow and darkness for thy winding sheet—
A phantom folded in a freezing storm,
Whose breath is driven sleet;

XIV

‘Whose eyes are lit with such a glare as froze
The Gorgon's victim into lifeless stone;
From whose pale lips each murmur as it flows
Is cruel as the moan

XV

‘Of loosened avalanche in wintry peak,
Whose gathering thunder clots with ice the blood
Of one below: with terror-blanchèd cheek
He waits the rushing flood.

XVI

‘Such and so terrible shalt thou appear’—
‘So terrible’—O Death, forgive the thought;
Forgive that vision of incarnate fear
By fevered fancy wrought.

XVII

Forgive youth's dreams, forgive its vain alarms,
Forgive its quick-drawn, palpitating breath;
I was too young to feel thy fondling arms
Twined round my heart, O Death!

XVIII

Strange fears were mine that, as the years rolled by,
An awful shadow of approaching doom
Would fall on life, and darken earth and sky
With ever-deepening gloom.

XIX

Strange fears and vain! Now, taught by Time, I know
That, ever as life nears its hour of rest,
A warmer light, a slowly-deepening glow,
Burns in the mystic West.

XX

Two visions haunt us while we dream life's dream,—
One bright and beautiful beyond compare;
And one whose features to our fancy seem
Dark as our heart's despair.

XXI

And this we shun with unavailing strife;
And that we seek with passionate desire;
This is the cloud that chills and darkens life;
And that life's inmost fire.

XXII

And yet perchance death's mask of terror hides
The very face divinely fair and bright,
Whose baffling beauty lures us on and guides
Our hearts into the light.

XXIII

O God Triune! O Beauty, Love, and Death!
Whose hidden presence makes the world divine,
Through every nerve and fibre thrills the faith
That links my life to thine.

XXIV

O God, what art thou?—from the depths of doubt
Or heights of hope we passionately cry.
‘Beauty,’ God answers from the world without:
‘Love,’ is the heart's reply.

XXV

Beauty and love—were they not one of old?
For what is beauty but love's outward grace?
And love but beauty burning to behold
Its own resplendent face?

XXVI

Though life divide them, yet at last I think
Love lost in beauty will attain its goal;
And beauty drawn by love at last will sink
Into love's inmost soul.

XXVII

As, in the chaos of life's primal source,
Two world-enfolding vapours floating free,
Flashed into one by some mysterious force,
Became the rolling sea;—

XXVIII

So love and beauty die and live again
In that far-wandering wave whose wind-borne breath
Haunts us through all our years, the boundless main
Of life-encircling death.

XXIX

Sometimes I think that in thine arms of love,
Sleeping the sleep of life, O Death! I rest,
While through my dreams, like rhythmic tide-waves, move
The pulses of thy breast.

XXX

And when mine hour has come, thy lips at last
Will touch my slumb'rous eyelids with a kiss,
And all life's fevered visions fading fast
Will weave one dream of bliss.

XXXI

Then gazing up with half-bewildered eyes,
My waking spirit, like a startled child,
(Who scarce can guess in whose warm arms he lies)
By thy fond love beguiled,

XXXII

Will see at last, through life's dissolving veil,
The form that clasps it in a close embrace;
Will meet at last thy silent eyes, and hail
A dear familiar face.

The first fifteen stanzas of this poem were written many years ago. The rest of the poem has been recently rewritten, the original ending being no longer true to the writer's feelings about death.