The Last Poems of Richard Watson Dixon ... Selected and Edited by Robert Bridges: With a Preface by M. E. Coleridge |
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DUST AND WIND |
 | The Last Poems of Richard Watson Dixon |  |
23
DUST AND WIND
The dust takes form of the wind, that bloweth where it lists;
The wind takes form of the dust, that maniacally resists:
The wind takes form of the dust, as the soul takes form of the clay;
A spectral form it is, and quickly it fades away.
The wind takes form of the dust, that maniacally resists:
The wind takes form of the dust, as the soul takes form of the clay;
A spectral form it is, and quickly it fades away.
A rushing archer seems this dust that doth arise;
His bow in the whirl is bent, his arrows seek the eyes:
A myriad myriad atoms compose his transient form,
Gathered between the flower of the grass and the root-gnawing worm.
His bow in the whirl is bent, his arrows seek the eyes:
A myriad myriad atoms compose his transient form,
Gathered between the flower of the grass and the root-gnawing worm.
Then he falls at once, and lies scattered on the plain:
A myriad made his form: I take a single grain:
'Tis greater than the whole; an atom infinite:
Will it yield up that which dwells within it, as I write?
A myriad made his form: I take a single grain:
'Tis greater than the whole; an atom infinite:
Will it yield up that which dwells within it, as I write?
Yes, there blooms within it invisible a flower,
Rooted in the atomy clod, which bloomed in its own hour:
And in the unending dance of days shall bloom again
In that wild resurrection which ever is joy with pain.
Rooted in the atomy clod, which bloomed in its own hour:
And in the unending dance of days shall bloom again
In that wild resurrection which ever is joy with pain.
24
'Twas once compacted well in a form of bone and brain;
It went therefrom in its season, but the form did still remain:
The form itself was dissolved, and gathered to the grave;
And this atom of it, perchance, clung round the charnel cave.
It went therefrom in its season, but the form did still remain:
The form itself was dissolved, and gathered to the grave;
And this atom of it, perchance, clung round the charnel cave.
'Tis still the law of things that the atom reseek the whole
In the atom-built world of death: but what of the life, of the soul?
Whither retires the force, that gradual leaves the limb?
Whither returns the fire, when the eye begins to dim?
In the atom-built world of death: but what of the life, of the soul?
Whither retires the force, that gradual leaves the limb?
Whither returns the fire, when the eye begins to dim?
This is the secret thing that still to the dust adheres;
It is force, the thing that not fails when the atom disappears:
Which when it departs at length, departs by a secret course:
It is the wonder of power and the miracle of force.
It is force, the thing that not fails when the atom disappears:
Which when it departs at length, departs by a secret course:
It is the wonder of power and the miracle of force.
The limb begins to fail, but retains its bulk and size:
The sight grows dim, but still stand bright and full the eyes.
When the limb begins to fail, whither doth force retire?
And when the eye grows dim, whither returns its fire?
The sight grows dim, but still stand bright and full the eyes.
When the limb begins to fail, whither doth force retire?
And when the eye grows dim, whither returns its fire?
25
In a spirit-atom world do they reseek the whole?
And, as they thither depart, posts after them the soul?
Rejoin they the soul again, which they have fled before,
Mysterious light and might, to quit it never more?
And, as they thither depart, posts after them the soul?
Rejoin they the soul again, which they have fled before,
Mysterious light and might, to quit it never more?
Ah who can measure spirit, or compass force and power?
Is that the secret of dust, is that the invisible flower,
Which methought I saw unfurled in the atom lifeless and cold,
Because anciently some soul in form did that atom hold?
Is that the secret of dust, is that the invisible flower,
Which methought I saw unfurled in the atom lifeless and cold,
Because anciently some soul in form did that atom hold?
Canst thou, oh atom, tell; oh, wilt thou hear thy name,
Why after losing thee the form remained the same?
Why, after losing others that took thy place and part,
The force fell from the limbs, the form died round its heart?
Why after losing thee the form remained the same?
Why, after losing others that took thy place and part,
The force fell from the limbs, the form died round its heart?
Oh, thou wilt answer not, thou keepest thy secret still;
Get thee back to the phantom crowd, that the wind whirls at his will:
Thy flower is unopened yet, or else invisibly blooms,
As the voice of the bat that at evening wails weakly by the tombs.
Get thee back to the phantom crowd, that the wind whirls at his will:
Thy flower is unopened yet, or else invisibly blooms,
As the voice of the bat that at evening wails weakly by the tombs.
26
Oh, dust, thou art faithful still to man, to the tribes of earth:
Thy dark and dreadful silence forbiddeth not other birth;
And that future birth shall be, for the former things remain,
Ever that resurrection, which is unto joy with pain.
Thy dark and dreadful silence forbiddeth not other birth;
And that future birth shall be, for the former things remain,
Ever that resurrection, which is unto joy with pain.
But now, oh what of the wind, that uplifteth thy multitudes?
Is he too, faithful to earth, and to earth's unhappy broods?
Is the wind content to breathe, like the voiceless voice of the dust,
The story of joy with pain, and of justice made unjust?
Is he too, faithful to earth, and to earth's unhappy broods?
Is the wind content to breathe, like the voiceless voice of the dust,
The story of joy with pain, and of justice made unjust?
Nay, gone he is full far, since he dropped thee on the plain:
And he taketh his other forms, of the sea, of the cloud, of the rain,
Of the beams of the sun and moon, of the hightossed forest trees
Whose boughs sweep the earth like billows, whose voice is the voice of seas.
And he taketh his other forms, of the sea, of the cloud, of the rain,
Of the beams of the sun and moon, of the hightossed forest trees
Whose boughs sweep the earth like billows, whose voice is the voice of seas.
He upseals the evening sky with the chilly roses of eve,
Pressed far on the infinite blue, and thus would he deceive:
As if he would image to man another world of light,
Amidst his watery show—down rushes the curtain of night.
Pressed far on the infinite blue, and thus would he deceive:
27
Amidst his watery show—down rushes the curtain of night.
Oh dust, thou art faithful to man, thou promisest man no more
Than has been in the ancient age, in the years that are gone before:
Thy coming is but for a moment, thy form is stern and rude,
Thy essence an atom is, thy abiding is solitude.
Than has been in the ancient age, in the years that are gone before:
Thy coming is but for a moment, thy form is stern and rude,
Thy essence an atom is, thy abiding is solitude.
Oh wind, thou art faithless to man, thou comest and goest on earth,
Thou shakest these rude atoms into a transient birth:
Thou bearest a double meaning: thy whisper drieth the tear,
Thy voice brings tempest; but what thou sayest, who can hear?
Thou shakest these rude atoms into a transient birth:
Thou bearest a double meaning: thy whisper drieth the tear,
Thy voice brings tempest; but what thou sayest, who can hear?
| The Last Poems of Richard Watson Dixon | |