Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
 |
| I. |
THE MAKING OF THE WHITE SOUL. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
| IV. |
| V. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
37
THE MAKING OF THE WHITE SOUL.
Fired with the battle fever, tost upon iron wavesStill by the grim deceiver death among open graves,
Vainly I sought the purging needed by my sick breast,
All in the bloody surging, all in the red unrest.
Wounded but yet no cleaner, broken but yet the same,
Dying but yet the meaner out of the wreck I came.
Where should I bathe my sorrows, where should I wash me white,
Ere the avenging morrow's reckoning infinite?
Death only mocked me ever though I pursued its path,
Cleansed not my wild endeavour with its refining wrath.
Then within court and column sought I the blessèd balm,
Craved with devotion solemn, wooed in the sacred psalm;
Gazing my eyes grew moister, fixed on the fateful cross,
Sealed in the silent cloister armed to assay my dross.
Vainly I met the lashes, vainly I did endure
Sackcloth and fast and ashes—still I remained impure.
How should I lose my tainted nature and make me white,
Clothed in apparel sainted, holiness infinite?
Then by my awful study, eager I hoped to leave
Sin and pollution muddy, holding me down a slave;
Digging the dusty treasure torn from the jealous years,
Reaping a sober pleasure purchased with time and tears;
Turning the yellow pages hourly and day and night,
Torturing sere old ages still for the questioned light.
Vainly I asked each sentence all that from flesh might wean,
Vainly I read repentance—still I abode unclean.
When should I drop my chaining rags for a vesture white,
Weaving instead of staining comeliness infinite?
So in the woe and welter made by the miry street
Merged I forsook the shelter cold as a winding sheet;
Hailed in the lost my brothers gained from no musty shelf,
Hoping at last in others thus to redeem myself.
38
Gathering grace and bolder strength for my hungry heart,
Till from the kindly toiling done in the common way,
Slowly the sin and soiling faded and fell away;
While, though by tardy stages, dawned like a sunrise sure,
Blessings not bought by wages, giving a franchise pure;
And to my empty bosom, till it possessed the whole,
Breaking all into blossom, beautiful came the Soul.
For, as the shadow dwindled, waxed the new nature white,
Shedding a peace that kindled happiness infinite.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |