The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley [i.e. J. B. L. Warren] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
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A SONG OF DESPAIR |
 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
A SONG OF DESPAIR
The earth is dust, dust, dust,
Heaven is but empty air,
Faith falters in distrust,
The throne of God is bare.
Heaven is but empty air,
Faith falters in distrust,
The throne of God is bare.
459
The saint has worshipped wind,
The seer has seen a lie.
The round globe deaf and blind
Rolls on eternally.
The seer has seen a lie.
The round globe deaf and blind
Rolls on eternally.
The priests in golden domes
With blood and fire entreat
The hand that never comes,
The long-delaying feet.
With blood and fire entreat
The hand that never comes,
The long-delaying feet.
As feeble bells of foam,
The creeds are cracked and lost,
Like clouds without a home,
Like waves without a coast.
The creeds are cracked and lost,
Like clouds without a home,
Like waves without a coast.
The foolish peoples tease
Fate—Nature—what you will.
Suns roll and moons decrease,
And men are evil still.
Fate—Nature—what you will.
Suns roll and moons decrease,
And men are evil still.
Who sins, by Nature sins,
The pure by birth are so.
The game Death always wins,
Tho' we play high or low.
The pure by birth are so.
The game Death always wins,
Tho' we play high or low.
The heart is nerve and flesh,
The brain a mere machine.
Some slave in sensual mesh,
Some virtue saves serene.
The brain a mere machine.
Some slave in sensual mesh,
Some virtue saves serene.
The lecher and the saint
One equal dust awaits;
The same sepulchral taint,
The same tremendous Fates.
One equal dust awaits;
The same sepulchral taint,
The same tremendous Fates.
Whether thou diest at peace,
Slain in a noble call:
Or, like this gutter, cease
Stabbed in some tavern brawl;
Slain in a noble call:
Or, like this gutter, cease
Stabbed in some tavern brawl;
Be thou a man of jest,
Thy mirth must soon be done;
The threshold of thy west
Saves but an hour of sun;
Thy mirth must soon be done;
The threshold of thy west
Saves but an hour of sun;
460
Be thou a toper brave,
Who finds the vine juice good,
Who trolls a ribald stave
To jog his frozen blood.
Who finds the vine juice good,
Who trolls a ribald stave
To jog his frozen blood.
Be thou some narrow soul
Who grubs in sordid pelf,
And lives merely to roll
More bags upon the shelf.
Who grubs in sordid pelf,
And lives merely to roll
More bags upon the shelf.
As warden of the church,
Thy farmyard corner sway;
And from thy village perch
Proclaim the time of day.
Thy farmyard corner sway;
And from thy village perch
Proclaim the time of day.
And thou the meanest thing
Who draweth human breath;
Whose mildewed features cling
To a skull-like mask of death,
Who draweth human breath;
Whose mildewed features cling
To a skull-like mask of death,
Art thou some radiant queen,
Child of a golden clime,
Too lovely to be seen,
The rosebud of her time?
Child of a golden clime,
Too lovely to be seen,
The rosebud of her time?
Come, end this comic thing:
Down bid the curtain float.
Shift thyself, pasteboard king,
And peel thy spangled coat.
Down bid the curtain float.
Shift thyself, pasteboard king,
And peel thy spangled coat.
When Death as reaper mows,
A varied swath he seeks,
He garners in the rose,
He gathers up the leeks.
A varied swath he seeks,
He garners in the rose,
He gathers up the leeks.
The burdock harsh and hard,
The hemlock's spotted breast,
Narcissus of the bard,
The lily's plumy crest,—
The hemlock's spotted breast,
Narcissus of the bard,
The lily's plumy crest,—
He rolls them in one sheaf,
Where the idle tares are curled
Round the stem and ear and leaf,
Whose grain sustains the world.
Where the idle tares are curled
Round the stem and ear and leaf,
Whose grain sustains the world.
461
We hear his hand is Love,
And hold his rod benign;
We seek in heaven above,
And in the deep a sign.
And hold his rod benign;
We seek in heaven above,
And in the deep a sign.
Ascend thy bleak black tower,
Blind watchman, blear and gray,
And search the coming hour
That wings from far away.
Blind watchman, blear and gray,
And search the coming hour
That wings from far away.
The signals of the night
Are dim with haze and dread:
Dull shapes perplex the sight,
Pale phantoms of the dead.
Are dim with haze and dread:
Dull shapes perplex the sight,
Pale phantoms of the dead.
What hope, when for reply
No sound his warden hears,
No cry, save his own cry,
No drip, save his own tears?
No sound his warden hears,
No cry, save his own cry,
No drip, save his own tears?
They sent him up to hail
The laggard moonbeam back:
He sees the vulture sail
Grim on the lurid track.
The laggard moonbeam back:
He sees the vulture sail
Grim on the lurid track.
He finds no hint of morn,
But fears that on the plain
The royal flag is torn,
The gallant trooper slain.
But fears that on the plain
The royal flag is torn,
The gallant trooper slain.
For the winds are rocking loud
Across the burning heath,
And yonder fiery cloud
That mimics dawn is Death.
Across the burning heath,
And yonder fiery cloud
That mimics dawn is Death.
July 26th, 1894.
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |