 | English Roses |  |
POESY.
Poesy justs sets to singing treasures that are free to all,
With a common music ringing chimes in hovel and the hall;
Letting loose the secret fancies buried by the heart of man,
All the raptures and romances part of God's eternal plan;
One for princes, or the peasant as he drudges at his toil
Heedless the Divine is present though obscured by sin and soil.
Yes, it takes the primal forces which below the human lie,
And reveals those gracious sources never meant to droop or die;
Thoughts and wishes like the fountains bubbling up through iron rock,
Passions deep and strong as mountains and with more than earthquake shock;
And the elemental feelings, kindred to the earth and sky,
Fixed among the wrecks and reelings—this is gentle Poesy.
With a common music ringing chimes in hovel and the hall;
518
All the raptures and romances part of God's eternal plan;
One for princes, or the peasant as he drudges at his toil
Heedless the Divine is present though obscured by sin and soil.
Yes, it takes the primal forces which below the human lie,
And reveals those gracious sources never meant to droop or die;
Thoughts and wishes like the fountains bubbling up through iron rock,
Passions deep and strong as mountains and with more than earthquake shock;
And the elemental feelings, kindred to the earth and sky,
Fixed among the wrecks and reelings—this is gentle Poesy.
Poesy to the wide nation and our individual needs
Gives a clear articulation and out-syllables their creeds;
And the vague unuttered yearning dimly felt and hardly known,
Bodies forth in easy learning and makes lovely and its own.
Tenderly it draws from nature miracles of secret might
And unfolds the legislature writ on hieroglyphic night,
Parables of woods that cherish awful spells and wayside lore
And the love of waves that perish in their marriage with the shore.
Till with breezes softly blowing, sights that broaden out the ken,
Every silver bell is going down beneath in minds of men;
While it gathers from the middle throb of things their mystery
And the grave yields up its riddle—this is gentle Poesy.
Gives a clear articulation and out-syllables their creeds;
And the vague unuttered yearning dimly felt and hardly known,
Bodies forth in easy learning and makes lovely and its own.
Tenderly it draws from nature miracles of secret might
And unfolds the legislature writ on hieroglyphic night,
Parables of woods that cherish awful spells and wayside lore
And the love of waves that perish in their marriage with the shore.
Till with breezes softly blowing, sights that broaden out the ken,
Every silver bell is going down beneath in minds of men;
519
And the grave yields up its riddle—this is gentle Poesy.
Poesy doth find expression for the dumb, and lends the blind
Vision, and to even transgression is most beautiful and kind;
And the silent sacred numbers of the dreams withheld from none
But embalmed in centuried slumbers till interpreted by one,
It calls out to golden waking of their old enchanted power,
As if all the world were breaking into laughter and in flower
And the burden of the ages under evil and the wrong
Were a palimpsest of pages with an everlasting song.
And what every soul, if kneeling or among the battle ring,
Darkly guesses with the feeling, it alone can say or sing;
When he comes who is the Master, and explains how tragedy
Brings delight and not disaster—this is gentle Poesy.
Vision, and to even transgression is most beautiful and kind;
And the silent sacred numbers of the dreams withheld from none
But embalmed in centuried slumbers till interpreted by one,
It calls out to golden waking of their old enchanted power,
As if all the world were breaking into laughter and in flower
And the burden of the ages under evil and the wrong
Were a palimpsest of pages with an everlasting song.
And what every soul, if kneeling or among the battle ring,
Darkly guesses with the feeling, it alone can say or sing;
When he comes who is the Master, and explains how tragedy
Brings delight and not disaster—this is gentle Poesy.
Poesy is glad and gaily steps along the dusty road,
Light'ning our long tasks and daily duties of their bitter load;
Showing the familiar lesson has a depth we never saw,
While he puts a glorious dress on each imperfect art and flaw.
Universal, with a healing touch as merciful as time,
Lo, it falls in fair concealing on the ugly scars of of crime;
And gray ruins blossom sweeter at the brightness of its tread,
Shining out in shapes completer and yet living in the dead.
To the magic of its splendour nothing may be poor or mean,
And the vices we surrender it transmutes and turns them clean.
Hope it seems in clouded morning, and at eve a memory
Soft as bridal-sweet adorning—this is gentle Poesy.
Light'ning our long tasks and daily duties of their bitter load;
Showing the familiar lesson has a depth we never saw,
While he puts a glorious dress on each imperfect art and flaw.
Universal, with a healing touch as merciful as time,
Lo, it falls in fair concealing on the ugly scars of of crime;
And gray ruins blossom sweeter at the brightness of its tread,
Shining out in shapes completer and yet living in the dead.
520
And the vices we surrender it transmutes and turns them clean.
Hope it seems in clouded morning, and at eve a memory
Soft as bridal-sweet adorning—this is gentle Poesy.
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