University of Virginia Library

Aweary of the restless will to know
Invisible heights, which men have sigh'd to reach,
And walk the deep sea, without faith, alone,
I thought of that lithe wrestler, born of Earth,
Who strove with him the hydra's conqueror,
Losing and winning. Lifted into air
He swoon'd defeated: touching then the sod,
His blood sprang full of wings and he arose,
The heaving pulses of the hills his own,
The sinews of the deserts in his thighs.
And, when I fell asleep at middle night,
My thought becoming portion of my sleep,
I wander'd into Libyan solitudes
(For so a dream confuses place and time)
And to me spake the giant of the Waste:
“I am Antaeus, darling of the Earth.
Whatever makes me stronger, man, is thine;
I am a man, but these ungirded arms,
Forever striving, writhe forever more,
Wrestling with gods and godlike challengers.
Born of the Earth, I cling to her for strength,
Her life is mine and mine is hers forever;
I feel my thews alone when standing fast,
A brother of the mountains, at their feet,
And dare to know my conquerors: they dwell
Aloft in myriad shapes and essences;
Sometimes they wait and seize me, unaware,
In whirlwinds of white frenzy, and I fall
Weak as a leaf whose last breath is gone out
In the first breath of Autumn: waking, then,
(Like one who, falling, wakens from his dream,)
I see a wingéd giant near the sun.
I know my place, my victors know their own:
Theirs the invisible Æther, mine below
Where the Earth breathes her breath, a breath of Life,
And if perchance I clasp them in my arms
Victorious here, I claim them as my own,
Servants of men and wingéd messengers.

“I am Antaeus, darling of the Earth,
Wrestler with gods and godlike challengers,
But, oftentimes, aweary of my strife,
And of the clasp of those invisible arms,
Ready to catch and lift me up in swoon,
The death-in-life that I alone can know,
And weary of the wrestlers coming still
With challenges in the air, for rest I turn
To the dear bosom of my Mother Earth:
She, like a mother, holds me near her heart;
She, like a mother, kisses me asleep
On loving pillows hush'd for harmless dreams;
She, like a mother, with a mother's voice
At morning wakens me. Dear Mother Earth,
Dearest and tenderest Mother, quick with love,
Throbbing with vigor, full of gentleness,
I give myself to thee, and thou dost give
Thyself to me again; thy weary child,
Asleep upon thy bosom, wakens strong,
For thou awakest in my heart anew,
Rising immortal in my mortal strength.”

It was a voice and pass'd, as voices pass
From dreams but leave a wake of sound—a form
And vanish'd, leaving something for the sight,
Shadowy and vast, the shadow of a shade;
And I awoke, and o'er my head a vine
Bronzed with an early splendor, to and fro
A playful breeze within my window caught;
I heard the noise of morning; far away
I saw a ploughman, and a sower near
Dropp'd corn into his furrows, trusting still
All golden promises of growing gain;
And when I walk'd abroad my shadow made
A giant's bulk, my sunburnt breast beat full
Of the great blood which moved in giants' veins
When, as we speak, the Earth itself was young;
And, while I saw an engine drag its world,
And watch'd an eagle in his azure deeps,
I smiled at the vague medley of my dream,
But said, “I am Antaeus, born of Earth,
Her chosen wrestler; lifted into air
I swoon defeated: touching then the sod,
My blood springs full of wings and I am strong.”