The Battle-Day and Other Poems By Ernest Jones |
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THE POET'S PRAYER TO THE EVENING WIND. |
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 | The Battle-Day and Other Poems |  |
THE POET'S PRAYER TO THE EVENING WIND.
Wild rider of grey clouds, beneath whose breath
The stars dissolve in mist, or rain, or sleet;
Who chariotest the scudding years to death,
Beneath thy driven tempests' clanging feet!
Thou child of mystery, terrible and strong,
Whose cradle and whose grave unfathomed lies.
Thou first of poets! Thou eternal song!
That born each moment, yet each moment dies!
The stars dissolve in mist, or rain, or sleet;
Who chariotest the scudding years to death,
Beneath thy driven tempests' clanging feet!
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Whose cradle and whose grave unfathomed lies.
Thou first of poets! Thou eternal song!
That born each moment, yet each moment dies!
Keeper of life in ocean, earth, and air,
That else would stagnate in a dull despair!
Dispeller of the mists! whose airy hand
Winnows the dead leaves from the forest-band!
Teach me like thee to sing, untired and strong,
Flooding all earth with one great tide of song;
Heard through each clime, in every language known,
By kindred feeling set to one heart-tone!
That else would stagnate in a dull despair!
Dispeller of the mists! whose airy hand
Winnows the dead leaves from the forest-band!
Teach me like thee to sing, untired and strong,
Flooding all earth with one great tide of song;
Heard through each clime, in every language known,
By kindred feeling set to one heart-tone!
Like thee, now breathing soft from flowery trees,
Now striking tempests through the torpid seas;
Wailing low music on some lonely strand,
Or hurling lightnings with unerring hand;
Scatt'ring the chaff from forth the goodly grain;
Dispelling fears, and cares and doubtings vain;
Till hearts of men upon my impulse sail,
And falsehood's wrecked in truth's victorious gale!
Now striking tempests through the torpid seas;
Wailing low music on some lonely strand,
Or hurling lightnings with unerring hand;
Scatt'ring the chaff from forth the goodly grain;
Dispelling fears, and cares and doubtings vain;
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And falsehood's wrecked in truth's victorious gale!
And while I live, oh! teach me still to be
A bard, as thou, brave, fetterless, and free.
Past cot and palace, to the weak and strong,
Singing the same great bold unfearing song!
And as thou bear'st sweet scents from strand to strand,
Culling the scattered treasures of the land,
So let me cull each isolated truth,
Where old bards left their thoughts' eternal youth—
Till man, while listening to the harp unseen,
Himself feels greater since the great has been.
A bard, as thou, brave, fetterless, and free.
Past cot and palace, to the weak and strong,
Singing the same great bold unfearing song!
And as thou bear'st sweet scents from strand to strand,
Culling the scattered treasures of the land,
So let me cull each isolated truth,
Where old bards left their thoughts' eternal youth—
Till man, while listening to the harp unseen,
Himself feels greater since the great has been.
And when the years bring labour's last reward,
Then sing my death-song, thou unequalled bard!
And tear my ashes from the clay-cold urn
To whirl them where the suns and planets burn,
And shout aloud, in brotherhood of glee:
“Like me to sing—and to be loved like me!”
Then sing my death-song, thou unequalled bard!
And tear my ashes from the clay-cold urn
To whirl them where the suns and planets burn,
And shout aloud, in brotherhood of glee:
“Like me to sing—and to be loved like me!”
| The Battle-Day and Other Poems | |