Studies of Sensation and Event Poems: By Ebenezer Jones. Edited, Prefaced and Annotated by Richard Herne Shepherd with Memorial Notices of the Author by Sumner Jones and William James Linton |
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I BELIEVE.
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 | Studies of Sensation and Event |  |
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I BELIEVE.
“Nature is not malignant like the gods of the people; she
is dreadfully imperfect, but has shown herself capable of improvement.”—Barker.
Every ship, except the ship we embark in,
Gives us dreams
Of bright voyaging, beauteous lands afar, and
Glorious streams;
Every maiden, until she has consented,
Angel seems.
Gives us dreams
Of bright voyaging, beauteous lands afar, and
Glorious streams;
Every maiden, until she has consented,
Angel seems.
Beautiful is nought, unless some foreground
Grasp debar;
All things flying attract us, and all charm till
Gain'd they are;
The hills are beautiful but because their summits
Soar afar.
Grasp debar;
All things flying attract us, and all charm till
Gain'd they are;
The hills are beautiful but because their summits
Soar afar.
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What is the argument of thy discontent,
Human soul?
Wilt thou, oh haggardest of coursers! ever
Find fit goal?
Art thou a wild exception, or knoweth Nature
Nothing whole?
Human soul?
Wilt thou, oh haggardest of coursers! ever
Find fit goal?
Art thou a wild exception, or knoweth Nature
Nothing whole?
Sometimes I dream the law of thy well-being
Ceaseless change,
And while thy senses and affections bid thee
Narrow range,
Thou, like a bird encaged and fetter'd, pinest
Lost and strange.
Ceaseless change,
And while thy senses and affections bid thee
Narrow range,
Thou, like a bird encaged and fetter'd, pinest
Lost and strange.
But most I pondering deem that it may be
That thy sight
To grasp the perfect 'neath Time's imperfections
Hath no might,
Whilst only before the perfect canst thou expand to
Fit delight.
That thy sight
To grasp the perfect 'neath Time's imperfections
Hath no might,
Whilst only before the perfect canst thou expand to
Fit delight.
And seems it then, whilst each fruit thou pursuest
Turns to dust,
That, spite of all thy pride in thy pursuing,
'Twere more just
That thou hadst never been unto dead-sea apples
Thus out-thrust.
Turns to dust,
That, spite of all thy pride in thy pursuing,
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That thou hadst never been unto dead-sea apples
Thus out-thrust.
Wait, blind-whirl'd Ixion of the flashing wheels,
Life and Death!
This thing is certain, that like ore good grows all
Ill beneath;
Other than worshippers of dreams and scriptures
Live by faith.
Life and Death!
This thing is certain, that like ore good grows all
Ill beneath;
Other than worshippers of dreams and scriptures
Live by faith.
Tombs many yet may rise for us, of lifetimes
Dark and brief;
We may not see Time's victory, but it comes, and,
For our grief,
Endurance knows celestial consolations
Past belief.
Dark and brief;
We may not see Time's victory, but it comes, and,
For our grief,
Endurance knows celestial consolations
Past belief.
Dissatisfaction accident is of Earth,
Not Earth's plan;
Years come when even its name shall be a riddle
None may scan;
Perchance even now his plumes outspreads the hour that
Ends the ban.
Not Earth's plan;
Years come when even its name shall be a riddle
None may scan;
Perchance even now his plumes outspreads the hour that
Ends the ban.
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Roll on then, Earth, with all thy soaring mountains
Pale as Ghosts!
Enchant, oh maids, and glory in enchanting
Man's young hosts;
Toward a new future will we make your victims
Road sign-posts.
Pale as Ghosts!
Enchant, oh maids, and glory in enchanting
Man's young hosts;
Toward a new future will we make your victims
Road sign-posts.
Mix pigments, study lines, exalt us Nature,
Painters all,
Burn fire on all her altars; and, though wearied,
Never fall;
What if 'twere come that she a Cleopatra
Could not pall.
Painters all,
Burn fire on all her altars; and, though wearied,
Never fall;
What if 'twere come that she a Cleopatra
Could not pall.
Hills, shake not off one torrent, nor grow pale thou,
Golden Sun!
The music of the world thou light'st up hath not
Yet begun.
Get ready, women! fitly have ye not yet
Once been won.
Golden Sun!
The music of the world thou light'st up hath not
Yet begun.
Get ready, women! fitly have ye not yet
Once been won.
Nor shake thou mockingly thy dart, oh Death!
Know, oh king!
We have made friends with Melancholy, and she
Thee will bring
Gently among us, yea to teach new music
Them that sing.
Know, oh king!
We have made friends with Melancholy, and she
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Gently among us, yea to teach new music
Them that sing.
There is a heaven, though we to hope to pass there
May not dare;
Where adoration shall for ever adore some
Perfect fair;
And we can wait thee, Death, our eyes enfixed
Firmly there.
May not dare;
Where adoration shall for ever adore some
Perfect fair;
And we can wait thee, Death, our eyes enfixed
Firmly there.
Jersey
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