A Child of the People And Other Poems. By James Chapman Woods |
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[Strange isolation hath the soul] |
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 | A Child of the People |  |
70
[Strange isolation hath the soul]
I.
Strange isolation hath the soul;
A germ which God informs with breath,
Whence thought and will evolve a whole,—
A circle broadening into death.
A germ which God informs with breath,
Whence thought and will evolve a whole,—
A circle broadening into death.
Viewless, yet visible through flesh;
Forging deep-shrined, self-ruling laws;
Fain oft to burst her bounding mesh,
Updrawn toward her primal Cause;
Forging deep-shrined, self-ruling laws;
Fain oft to burst her bounding mesh,
Updrawn toward her primal Cause;
Oft, self-involved, constrained to dwell
Sole warder of the gates of sense,
Lord of her life-ramped citadel,
Till death shall scale its last defence.
Sole warder of the gates of sense,
Lord of her life-ramped citadel,
Till death shall scale its last defence.
Sitting alone, she broods in tears
On many a half-remembered sight,
Which, ere she measured life by years,
Made splendour in her primal night.
On many a half-remembered sight,
Which, ere she measured life by years,
Made splendour in her primal night.
This body she is bound unto
She chose, whom her own thoughts consumed,
To blossom into action through:—
But gone the God-light that illumed.
She chose, whom her own thoughts consumed,
To blossom into action through:—
But gone the God-light that illumed.
71
She with her greatness bought her gains;
Strange grows the Heaven's eternal law:
Now nothing unto her remains
But shadows of the things she saw.
Strange grows the Heaven's eternal law:
Now nothing unto her remains
But shadows of the things she saw.
Sure but of one thing,—“I am I!
I think, act, feel, desire, apart;
To me, I am God's mystery,
And the world's centre is my heart!”
I think, act, feel, desire, apart;
To me, I am God's mystery,
And the world's centre is my heart!”
Yet some self-knowledge hath she won,
Whence self-contempt. She knows what fires
Flame where still streams were wont to run;
She shudders at her own desires.
Whence self-contempt. She knows what fires
Flame where still streams were wont to run;
She shudders at her own desires.
She sits as one round whom are hurled
The remnants of a harried feast,
'Mid jumbled creeds of all the world,—
Creeds of which she alone is priest;—
The remnants of a harried feast,
'Mid jumbled creeds of all the world,—
Creeds of which she alone is priest;—
Hopes, visions, dreams, imaginings,
Birth-blighted all. Her frosty eyes
Stare stonily past all these things,
To see a dawn adown the skies
Birth-blighted all. Her frosty eyes
Stare stonily past all these things,
To see a dawn adown the skies
Steal out beneath the skirts of grey,
And set the sombre heavens astir.
Then will she wake, and laugh away
This ghost of life that haunteth her.
And set the sombre heavens astir.
Then will she wake, and laugh away
This ghost of life that haunteth her.
72
II.
I heard an echo falling down
The steep where sang the quiet stars,
Into the hot heart of the town,
Foul with its festering sores and scars,—
An echo that had burst God's bars,
Sweet as the reed-throat bird of brown.
The steep where sang the quiet stars,
Into the hot heart of the town,
Foul with its festering sores and scars,—
An echo that had burst God's bars,
Sweet as the reed-throat bird of brown.
It came, a message to my soul,
Mad with her doubtings of the creeds,
And hungry search from pole to pole
For God made manifest by deeds;—
Crutchless amid her broken reeds
Wherewith lame feet might reach the goal.
Mad with her doubtings of the creeds,
And hungry search from pole to pole
For God made manifest by deeds;—
Crutchless amid her broken reeds
Wherewith lame feet might reach the goal.
A voice, myself with being banned
While still the soul was body-free;
Now, captive in a stranger land,
I hear it sigh along the sea.
The strain has second birth in me:
The words I cannot understand.
While still the soul was body-free;
Now, captive in a stranger land,
I hear it sigh along the sea.
The strain has second birth in me:
The words I cannot understand.
73
Backward to grasp my thought I strain;
In life's dim light, I lose the clue:
Yet but to hear my soul's refrain
Thrilling the darkness through and through,
Wakes half a hope the dream is true
That life from death may something gain.
In life's dim light, I lose the clue:
Yet but to hear my soul's refrain
Thrilling the darkness through and through,
Wakes half a hope the dream is true
That life from death may something gain.
III.
What gain, alas? A permanence
Of aimless being all unknit,
Lopped of the grappling arms of sense
Wherewith the worlds were caught to it?
Of aimless being all unknit,
Lopped of the grappling arms of sense
Wherewith the worlds were caught to it?
The soul a waif upon the tide
That storms along eternity?
Is this the end of all her pride
Of power, her half-divine degree?
That storms along eternity?
Is this the end of all her pride
Of power, her half-divine degree?
Or shall she slumber, vision-fed,
Penned torpid in her body-shroud,
Hearing the thunder overhead
Boom in the bosom of a cloud,
Penned torpid in her body-shroud,
Hearing the thunder overhead
Boom in the bosom of a cloud,
A voice that saddens all her dreams?
Yet bounding to God's pulse, that runs
Through all His balanced worlds, and streams
His life-blood into furthest suns,
Yet bounding to God's pulse, that runs
Through all His balanced worlds, and streams
His life-blood into furthest suns,
74
She strikes her vigour up the clod,
And bursts in blossom on the plain;
Then, with a waning sense of God,
Drones in her deathly dreams again.
And bursts in blossom on the plain;
Then, with a waning sense of God,
Drones in her deathly dreams again.
Oh, better far did Death make end
Of soul and body and have done,
Than that Eternity should lend
Her years to death-in-life begun,—
Of soul and body and have done,
Than that Eternity should lend
Her years to death-in-life begun,—
A dying fire that will not die,
Red-hearted 'mid its embers still!
Up then, doomed soul, give God the lie,
Mock, dare, defy Him; He may kill!
Red-hearted 'mid its embers still!
Up then, doomed soul, give God the lie,
Mock, dare, defy Him; He may kill!
Better that thou shouldst rot than rust.
When life has grown a barren thing,
And thought is stifled in the dust
That chokes its baffled water-spring,
When life has grown a barren thing,
And thought is stifled in the dust
That chokes its baffled water-spring,
And not the will remains to urge
The flagging wheels of action on,
Pray God to cast thee o'er the verge
Of being, blessed to be gone!
The flagging wheels of action on,
Pray God to cast thee o'er the verge
Of being, blessed to be gone!
Gain! if she deemed life ended so,
The soul that groans for God's embrace
And portion in His life, would throw
His gift of being in His face!
The soul that groans for God's embrace
And portion in His life, would throw
His gift of being in His face!
| A Child of the People | |