 | Sonnets of the Wingless Hours |  |
69
SECTION IV. THE AFTER-LIFE.
71
WAIFS OF A WORLD.
Long ere Columbus in the breeze unfurled
His venturous sail to hunt the setting sun,
Long ere he fired his first exultant gun
Where strange canoes all round his flagship whirled,
His venturous sail to hunt the setting sun,
Long ere he fired his first exultant gun
Where strange canoes all round his flagship whirled,
The unsailed ocean which the west wind curled
Had born strange waifs to Europe, one by one:
Wood carved by Indian hands, and trees like none
Which men then knew, from an untrodden world.
Had born strange waifs to Europe, one by one:
Wood carved by Indian hands, and trees like none
Which men then knew, from an untrodden world.
Oh for a waif from o'er that wider sea
Whose margin is the grave, and where we think
A gem-bepebbled continent may be!
Whose margin is the grave, and where we think
A gem-bepebbled continent may be!
But all in vain we watch upon the brink;
No waif floats up from black infinity,
Where all who venture out for ever sink.
No waif floats up from black infinity,
Where all who venture out for ever sink.
72
SEA-SHELL MURMURS.
The hollow sea-shell which for years hath stood
On dusty shelves, when held against the ear
Proclaims its stormy parent; and we hear
The faint far murmur of the breaking flood.
On dusty shelves, when held against the ear
Proclaims its stormy parent; and we hear
The faint far murmur of the breaking flood.
We hear the sea. The sea? It is the blood
In our own veins, impetuous and near,
And pulses keeping pace with hope and fear
And with our feelings' every shifting mood.
In our own veins, impetuous and near,
And pulses keeping pace with hope and fear
And with our feelings' every shifting mood.
Lo, in my heart I hear, as in a shell,
The murmur of a world beyond the grave,
Distinct, distinct, though faint and far it be.
The murmur of a world beyond the grave,
Distinct, distinct, though faint and far it be.
Thou fool; this echo is a cheat as well,—
The hum of earthly instincts; and we crave
A world unreal as the shell-heard sea.
The hum of earthly instincts; and we crave
A world unreal as the shell-heard sea.
73
IDLE CHARON.
The shores of Styx are lone for evermore,
And not one shadowy form upon the steep
Looms through the dusk, far as the eye can sweep,
To call the ferry over as of yore;
And not one shadowy form upon the steep
Looms through the dusk, far as the eye can sweep,
To call the ferry over as of yore;
But tintless rushes, all about the shore,
Have hemmed the old boat in, where, locked in sleep,
Hoar-bearded Charon lies; while pale weeds creep
With tightening grasp all round the unused oar.
Have hemmed the old boat in, where, locked in sleep,
Hoar-bearded Charon lies; while pale weeds creep
With tightening grasp all round the unused oar.
For in the world of Life strange rumours run
That now the Soul departs not with the breath,
But that the Body and the Soul are one;
That now the Soul departs not with the breath,
But that the Body and the Soul are one;
And in the loved one's mouth, now, after death,
The widow puts no obol, nor the son,
To pay the ferry in the world beneath.
The widow puts no obol, nor the son,
To pay the ferry in the world beneath.
74
THE OBOL.
Scarce have I rhymed of Charon looming gray
Amid pale rushes, through the dusky air,
And of the obol we no longer care
To put in dead men's mouths as ferry-pay,
Amid pale rushes, through the dusky air,
And of the obol we no longer care
To put in dead men's mouths as ferry-pay,
When, lo, I find, among some pence, to-day
Received as common change, I know not where,
A stray Greek obol, seeming Charon's fare
To put between my lips when I be clay.
Received as common change, I know not where,
A stray Greek obol, seeming Charon's fare
To put between my lips when I be clay.
Poor bastard Obol, even couldst thou cheat
The shadowy Boatman, I should scarcely find
The heart to cross: extinction seems so sweet.
The shadowy Boatman, I should scarcely find
The heart to cross: extinction seems so sweet.
I need thee not; and thou shalt be consigned
To some old whining beggar in the street,
Whose soul shall cross, while mine shall stay behind.
To some old whining beggar in the street,
Whose soul shall cross, while mine shall stay behind.
The coin referred to in this sonnet was a modern Greek piece of five lepta, rather smaller than a halfpenny, and bearing the word Obolos on the reverse.
75
ACHERON.
Where rolls in silent speed through cave on cave
Soul-freighted Acheron, and no other light
Evokes the rocks from an eternal night
Than the pale phosphorescence of the wave,
Soul-freighted Acheron, and no other light
Evokes the rocks from an eternal night
Than the pale phosphorescence of the wave,
Shall men not meet, and have one chance to crave
Forgiveness for rash deeds—one chance to right
Old earthly quarrels, and, in Death's despite,
Unsay the said, and heal the pang they gave?
Forgiveness for rash deeds—one chance to right
Old earthly quarrels, and, in Death's despite,
Unsay the said, and heal the pang they gave?
See, see! there looms from yonder soul-filled barque
That passes ours, a long-loved, long-lost face,
And with a cry we stretch our ghostly arms.
That passes ours, a long-loved, long-lost face,
And with a cry we stretch our ghostly arms.
But heeding not, they whirl into the dark,
Bound for a sea beyond all time and space,
Which neither life nor love nor sunlight warms.
Bound for a sea beyond all time and space,
Which neither life nor love nor sunlight warms.
76
THE PHANTOM SHIP.
We touch Life's shore as swimmers from a wreck
Who shudder at the cheerless land they reach,
And find their comrades gathered on the beach
Watching a fading sail, a small white speck—
Who shudder at the cheerless land they reach,
And find their comrades gathered on the beach
Watching a fading sail, a small white speck—
The phantom ship, upon whose ample deck
There seemed awhile a homeward place for each.
The crowd still wring their hands and still beseech,
But see, it fades, in spite of prayer and beck.
There seemed awhile a homeward place for each.
The crowd still wring their hands and still beseech,
But see, it fades, in spite of prayer and beck.
Let those who hope for brighter shores no more
Not mourn, but turning inland, bravely seek
What hidden wealth redeems the iron shore.
Not mourn, but turning inland, bravely seek
What hidden wealth redeems the iron shore.
The strong must build stout cabins for the weak;
Must plan and plough; must sow and reap and store;
For grain takes root, though all seems bare and bleak.
Must plan and plough; must sow and reap and store;
For grain takes root, though all seems bare and bleak.
77
MY OWN HEREAFTER.
Where angel trumpets hail a brighter sun
With their superb alarum, and the flash
Of angel cymbals dazzles as they clash,
Seek not to find me, when my sands are run;
With their superb alarum, and the flash
Of angel cymbals dazzles as they clash,
Seek not to find me, when my sands are run;
Nor where, in mail of sapphire every one,
God's sentries man the walls, that Light's waves wash
With an eternal angel-heard faint plash—
But in some book of sonnets, when day's done.
God's sentries man the walls, that Light's waves wash
With an eternal angel-heard faint plash—
But in some book of sonnets, when day's done.
There in the long June twilight, as you read,
You will encounter my immortal parts,
If any such I have, from earth's clay freed;
You will encounter my immortal parts,
If any such I have, from earth's clay freed;
Divested of their sins, to be the seed
Perhaps of some slight good in other's hearts.
That is the only after-life I need.
Perhaps of some slight good in other's hearts.
That is the only after-life I need.
78
WINE OF OMAR KHAYYÁM.
He rode the flame-winged dragon-steed of Thought
Through Space and Darkness, seeking Heav'n and Hell;
And searched the furthest stars where souls might dwell
To find God's justice; and in vain he sought.
Through Space and Darkness, seeking Heav'n and Hell;
And searched the furthest stars where souls might dwell
To find God's justice; and in vain he sought.
Then, looking on the dusk-eyed girl who brought
His dream-filled wine beside his garden well,
He said: ‘Her kiss; the wine-jug's drowsy spell;
Bulbul; the roses; death;—all else is naught:
His dream-filled wine beside his garden well,
He said: ‘Her kiss; the wine-jug's drowsy spell;
Bulbul; the roses; death;—all else is naught:
‘So drink till that.’—What, drink, because the abyss
Of Nothing waits? because there is for man
But one swift hour of consciousness and light?
Of Nothing waits? because there is for man
But one swift hour of consciousness and light?
No.—Just because we have no life but this,
Turn it to use; be noble while you can;
Search, help, create; then pass into the night.
Turn it to use; be noble while you can;
Search, help, create; then pass into the night.
79
A FLIGHT FROM GLORY.
Once, from the parapet of gems and glow,
An Angel said, ‘O God, the heart grows cold
On these eternal battlements of gold,
Where all is pure, but cold as virgin snow.
An Angel said, ‘O God, the heart grows cold
On these eternal battlements of gold,
Where all is pure, but cold as virgin snow.
‘Here sobs are never heard; no salt tears flow;
Here there are none to help—nor sick nor old;
No wrong to fight, no justice to uphold:
Grant me Thy leave to live man's life below.’
Here there are none to help—nor sick nor old;
No wrong to fight, no justice to uphold:
Grant me Thy leave to live man's life below.’
‘And then annihilation?’ God replied.
‘Yes,’ said the Angel, ‘even that dread price;
For earthly tears are worth eternal night.’
‘Yes,’ said the Angel, ‘even that dread price;
For earthly tears are worth eternal night.’
‘Then go,’ said God.—The Angel opened wide
His dazzling wings, gazed back on Heaven thrice,
And plunged for ever from the walls of Light.
His dazzling wings, gazed back on Heaven thrice,
And plunged for ever from the walls of Light.
80
FIREFLIES.
Now one by one the live winged sparks of night,
Like souls allowed to wander as they please
Through old loved haunts, go by between the trees
In silent zigzags of alternate light;
Like souls allowed to wander as they please
Through old loved haunts, go by between the trees
In silent zigzags of alternate light;
And grow in number, bodiless and bright,
So that the eye, too slow to count them, sees
Nothing but fire all round; till by degrees
Quenched in the dawn, they vanish from the sight.
So that the eye, too slow to count them, sees
Nothing but fire all round; till by degrees
Quenched in the dawn, they vanish from the sight.
And those more subtle sparks, which they recall,
The countless souls with which regret and love
Once peopled Death's great night, are they quenched too?
The countless souls with which regret and love
Once peopled Death's great night, are they quenched too?
Has Thought's strong dawn, which searches into all,
Reached even them, unpeopling Heaven above,
To leave us nothing but the empty blue?
Reached even them, unpeopling Heaven above,
To leave us nothing but the empty blue?
81
ALL SOULS' DAY.
I.
All Souls' Day's wintry light is on the wane;
The Tuscan furrows darken deeper brown:
And still the sower, ever up and down,
Is hard at work, broad scattering his grain:
The Tuscan furrows darken deeper brown:
And still the sower, ever up and down,
Is hard at work, broad scattering his grain:
As since dim times, again and yet again
(Beginning with old nations scarcely known,
Pelasgi and Etruscans) he has thrown
His seed upon this old Italic plain.
(Beginning with old nations scarcely known,
Pelasgi and Etruscans) he has thrown
His seed upon this old Italic plain.
And what became of all those shadowy dead
Who sowed their wheat, built Cyclopean walls
And left their lives unwritten on man's scrolls?
Who sowed their wheat, built Cyclopean walls
And left their lives unwritten on man's scrolls?
Just what became of what they sowed for bread—
Of grain that breeds fresh grain that falls and falls:
Earth had their bones; and who shall find their souls?
Of grain that breeds fresh grain that falls and falls:
Earth had their bones; and who shall find their souls?
82
ALL SOULS' DAY.
II.
What heavens that grow, what hells that still expand,
Would hold the close-packed souls of all who found
Earth's bread or sweet or bitter, and were bound
In sheaves of shadow by the silent hand—
Would hold the close-packed souls of all who found
Earth's bread or sweet or bitter, and were bound
In sheaves of shadow by the silent hand—
The close-packed souls of every time and land;
Millions of millions mingled with the ground;
Of all the mounded mummy-dust all round;
Who, back on earth, would fight for room to stand,
Millions of millions mingled with the ground;
Of all the mounded mummy-dust all round;
Who, back on earth, would fight for room to stand,
Nor find his square foot each?—But dusk has grown;
The fields are empty; day is dying fast;
And, save one figure, all is gray and lone;
The fields are empty; day is dying fast;
And, save one figure, all is gray and lone;
The figure of the sower who has cast
Wheat for the quick where countless dead have sown,
And passes ghost-like on his way at last.
Wheat for the quick where countless dead have sown,
And passes ghost-like on his way at last.
83
THE WRECK OF HEAVEN.
I.
I had a vision: naught for miles and miles
But shattered columns, shattered walls of gold,
And precious stones that from their place had roll'd,
And lay in heaps, with litter'd golden tiles;
But shattered columns, shattered walls of gold,
And precious stones that from their place had roll'd,
And lay in heaps, with litter'd golden tiles;
While, here and there, amid the ruined piles
Of gold and sardius, and their sparkling mould,
Wild tufts of amaranth had taken hold,
Scenting the golden desert like sweet isles.
Of gold and sardius, and their sparkling mould,
Wild tufts of amaranth had taken hold,
Scenting the golden desert like sweet isles.
And not one soul, and not one step nor sound,
Until there started up a haggard head
Out of the gold, from somewhere underground.
Until there started up a haggard head
Out of the gold, from somewhere underground.
Wildly he eyed me and the wreck all round:
‘Who'rt thou?’ quoth I. He shrilled a laugh and said:
‘The last of souls. I haunt this dazzling mound.’
‘Who'rt thou?’ quoth I. He shrilled a laugh and said:
‘The last of souls. I haunt this dazzling mound.’
84
THE WRECK OF HEAVEN.
II.
Ay, ay, the gates of pearl are crumbling fast;
The walls of beryl topple stone by stone;
The throngs of souls in white and gold are gone;
The jasper pillars lie where they were cast;
The walls of beryl topple stone by stone;
The throngs of souls in white and gold are gone;
The jasper pillars lie where they were cast;
The roofless halls of gold are dumb and vast;
The courts of jacinth are for ever lone;
Through shattered chrysolite the blind winds moan;
And topaz moulders into earth at last.
The courts of jacinth are for ever lone;
Through shattered chrysolite the blind winds moan;
And topaz moulders into earth at last.
And earth is the reality: its hue
Is brown and sad; its face is hard to till;
Upon man's brow the sweat must hang like dew.
Is brown and sad; its face is hard to till;
Upon man's brow the sweat must hang like dew.
But grain takes root, in valley, plain and hill,
Tho' never Heaven's amaranth here grew.
And grain breeds grain, and more and more grain still.
Tho' never Heaven's amaranth here grew.
And grain breeds grain, and more and more grain still.
| Sonnets of the Wingless Hours | |