 | The ghost's entry and other poems |  |
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FROM THE WINDOW OF A GREAT LIBRARY
‘The dead alive and busy’—
HENRY VAUGHAN
HENRY VAUGHAN
Without, wind-lifted, look, a little rose,
(From the great Summer's heart its life-blood flows,)
For some fond spirit to reach and kiss and bless,
Climbs to the casement, brings the lovely wraith
Of the sun's quick-blooded world of joyousness
Into this still world of enchanted breath!
And, far away, behold the dust arise
From streets white-hot into the sunny skies!
The city murmurs: in the sunshine beats,
Through all its giant veins of throbbing streets,
The heart of Business, on whose sweltering brow
The dew shall sleep to-night—forgotten now.
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There swarm the hiving myriads in the sun:
There all the mighty troubled day is loud
(Business the god whose voice is of the crowd):
And, far above the sea-horizon blue,
Like sea-birds, sails are hovering into view.
There move the living: here the dead that move:
(In the still book-world rests the noiseless lever
That moves the noisy throngèd world forever:)
Below the living move: the dead, above.
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