 | Jessamine Poems |  |
4
A Dream of Creation.
Come O, muse, into my dark chamber,Where gloomy and cold repines the soul,
And light on the mind's hearth stone a flame,
And set my poetic fires aglow.
Enfold me close to thy gentle bosom,
And like a mother, fond, endearing,
Press me closer and hold me fondly,
And imprint my lips with wisdom's kiss.
Let love, deep in my soul and wisdom
Sweetly vibrate in responsive strains,
And part the curtain invisible, that,
Doth swing 'twixt me and eternity,
Lift out, I pray thee, gentle the soul
From its prison walls, this finite clay,
That rolling waves of the infinite
May onward bear it forever more;
And to me the mysteries unfold,
Of myriad worlds that fly in space.
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And that flaming orb, all glorious,
Which from the canopies e'er doth brush
The shadows down, as some maiden would,
From her parlor walls, the cobwebs sweep.
And to me the book of nature ope,
That read it I may, and understand
The scenes that in all creation change,
E'en human souls, how have their being,
And the gentle rocking earth that drift
Like some bubble by the winds blown forth,
Whence cometh it? Whence come the flowers
That in varied hues bedeck this sphere?
Ah! now the heaven doth, like a scroll,
Roll back itself as I pass through,
And swift in the arms of gentle muse,
Am I borne off into nothingness.
For before creation now am I,
Where reigneth darkness silent profound,
Until with sound, the darkness tremble,
And the thundering voice of God doth call
“Let there be light”—and inky darkness,
By vibration breaks into a flame.
Then forth from God's hand into space
A veil of white nebulae is hurled,
Which rapid whirling, swift in motion,
Rolls its flames into balls which it hurls
With a quick momentum, sphere by sphere;
And each bright ball as it speeds away,
Into a million or more doth break.
Thus time begins and ten million years
Fly past while age doth quick record
The first eve and morn of the day.
Now eastward paling, the stars among,
Round a flame whirling, beautiful earth
Doth fly unceasing, itself aglow,
And dieth the flame in ten million years;
Which dying flames with vapor doth drape
The firmaments, and the waters form
Above and below, while hoary age,
Upon his wrinkled brow doth record
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Then comes, twixt water and land, a strife,
And formed are the seas which swift retreat,
And on rapid wings doth hasten flight;
While the land left bare doth put forth sprout,
And out of the dust, green herbage spring;
Which dust being crushed ten million years,
The plants support while hoary age
Doth quick in his ancient records write
The third day both the eve and the morn.
Then out of a vague unseeming space,
This pamorama of mystery
Doth bring ten myriad of angels forth
Which gird with gravitation the stars,
And into groups doth bind them fast.
And bound by this invisible band,
In space the constellations move
In a changeless flight, in great star-drifts;
Nor break do they their family tie,
For ten million years have made it strong:
And age once more sits down to write
The forth eve of the day and the morn.
Then fish from the water forth take wings,
And from them hatched are all of the birds,
And snakes likewise, but from the earth,
The beast and worm and insec's spring.
And the deer, that feed on the meadow-land,
Doth, in time, a pacing horse become,
And likewise moles into elephants
Turn, and the wild cats into lions,
And this, within ten million years,
Doth the fith day end, both eve and morn.
Then the sixth day begins and mystery dark
Upon earth doth like a mantle hang,
And when up it lifts, a double world.
Revolving rapidly, sphere in sphere,
Doth move thro' space, and intangible,
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And in the one, vibrating beings,
Transparent, move and eat and live,
And the soul with face and wings take flight
And moves on thro' space and lives and waits
Till man is formed, for in spirit world,
None come to this until some new form
Doth it invite and summon it forth.
Hence from the dusty earth springs man,
A form without life, but fleet, the soul
Doth come, and into the brain of him,
Doth go and live and make its abode,
And man doth a living soul become,
And knit together are man and soul,
Nor from the one can the other part,
Nor die can man, for he like the soul,
And blessed with it, must eternal be:
But he was lone and his nature craved
To multiply and to bring forth souls;
And into sleep God maketh him fall,
That he may never the secret know,
How man is formed and how the soul
Doth give it life, and maketh He
A mate for man and layeth her down,
And man awakes, and by him lying
Is a poet's dream, and beautiful
Her love lit eyes looketh into his
And ideals meet, and he graspeth her
As would cupid grasp the fair psyche.
And to him she now must ever be
A wife and a kind receptacle
For his desires, and like the flowers
Cast her bloom and bear forth fruit to God.
Thus creation ends, and man supreme
Doth rule on earth and the God doth rest:
For within the sixty million years
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But ten million years must still roll on,
And man for the things of earth must care.
And forth from neath fair Eden's bowers,
Doth he and his wife perambulate
Like lovers two on a star-lit night;
And sit do they on flowery mounds
And watch the stars as they nightly pass.
But she superior far to him,
Doth say to him, “There is life beyond,
And mystery which only spirits know:
So let us take of this poison plant
And of it eat that our bodies die,
And our souls, released, may fly above
And back and forth the two worlds through,
That all of creation we may know.”
But speaketh he thus:—“Dost thou not know
That knit as twins are body and soul,
And when one dieth, so dieth both,
And what then, shall we not surely miss
The very thing for which thou plannest?”
“Thou fool!” she cried “and dost thou not know
That the body before the soul must die?
For sure the one is spiritual,
And carnal sure, the other is,
But what if by this much poisoned plant,
The soul should grow sick nigh unto death.
Is not there a cure? for knoweth thou
That next every bane is an antidote,
And relief there is for every pain.
Behold! there standeth the tree of death,
And is not hard by the tree of life?
And naught there is for us both to do
But eat of the bane and nestle close
Beneath its bowers and cast our forms,
And forth reach out with our hands and pluck
The fruit of life, and all buoyant
Lift up ourselves into heavenland.”
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And happy now is the lot of man,
That woman noble did come to earth
To give him her sweet companionship.
I will eat the fruit for thy sweet sake,
And for thee would I upturn the earth;
And further more would I wreck the stars,
And cease from motion the universe
Till entirely thou wert satisfied.”
Then each of the fruit of death doth eat,
And into their bodies the poison
Doth work corruption, and man is doomed;
For on rapid wings, with flaming sword,
Doth an angel come and quick doth stand
Midway twixt the tree of life and them.
And speaketh he in thundering tones:—
“Depart from here, O, ye cursed man!
And hasten thou on ere the angry God
Doth melt the heavens upon thy head.
For die thou shalt, yet the soul shall not;
But doomed, it shall stand and ever wait
At thy burial place, nor leave it,
Except to roam in some vacant place,
Or to visit some sad familiar spot
Where often with toil thy flesh did sweat.
And yet, there cometh a time some day,
When resurrected shall be the dead;
And rejoicing souls shall quick go forth,
And within these resurrected forms,
Shall move thro' all material things,
And mysteries of the two worlds know:
Thus is your most sanguine hope fulfilled.
But before doth come to pass this thing,
From glory land doth a Prince come down
And with his blood our redemption pay:
For die shall he and within three days,
Himself again lift out of the grave.
Nor shall His body corrupt or rot,
But thine shall decay; nor from the tomb
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But when rottest thou, those elements
Which giveth the bone and maketh flesh
Shall break their bonds until purified;
Then reunite into pure compound.
Thus, shall thy bodies new be made
And gloriously resurrected.”
Then vanish fair Eden's fruitful lands,
And man quick with grief burdened much,
Goes forth in sorrow to multiply,
And with wild beast for mastery fight.
The sky above, with a sorrow deep,
Doth veil, in a cloud, her dazzling face,
And bitterly weeps till with her tears
The whole of the earth is flooded;
And narrowly doth the race of man
Escape being off creation swept.
But swift the wind to his rescue comes
And chaseth the tides and parts the clouds,
And man, high upon a mount rescued,
Doth again go forth to fill the land.
And heaven again upon him smiles,
And forth to Sinai's rugged tops;
The Holy Spirit, and greatest muse,
Doth come and kiss him with holy truth.
And later cometh of heaven down,
The Prince upon mount Calvery,
And sheddeth his blood that man may live
And happily spend eternity.
But the man not yet is satisfied,
And into the skies, the telescope
He lifts, and measures the space between
The planets and stars that race along
In a ceasless flight the heaven lands.
And he knoweth why Orion's sword
Is in nebulae casing sheathed,
But thinks the dipper hangs in the skies
That drink may the weary, thirsty stars.
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Just why the stars are together grouped,
And how each one, in its fiery glow,
Doth trail with its flames the ether through.
He catches sound and holdeth it fast,
And familiar he is with science,
And knoweth that light by seconds leap
About the fifth of a million miles
Yet soon he may o'er the empty space
Which is between this earth and the stars,
Throw forth a bridge and on rapid trains,
Carry on an extensive trade
And then will the merry cycler have
A race along the etherial blue,
Singing sweetly o'er the airy way,
Closing the record of the seventh day.
But forth come angels and cut in twain
Th' invisible band that binds the stars,
And they, let loose, dart off into space,
Pell-mell in their flight, and quicken speed.
And then what spectacle to behold
The stars that in tangled mazes fly!
While troop in their wake, ten million souls,
Seeking their bodies to find and catch.
Then suddenly sounds the trump of God,
And worlds collide and explode and burn;
And doth our Lord, in a whirling flame,
Snatch up the righteous into his arms
And then doth He to the wicked cry,
“All of ye cursed from me depart.”
And upon a throne of wickedness,
Doth quick the King of darkness reign,
While aged time with the seventh seal
Shuts up the record of the “last” day.
| Jessamine Poems | |