Poems By Richard Chenevix Trench: New ed |
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‘WHAT THOUGH YET THE SPIRIT SLUMBERS.’ |
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 | Poems |  |
171
‘WHAT THOUGH YET THE SPIRIT SLUMBERS.’
What though yet the spirit slumbers
That should clothe great acts in song,
Stirring but in feeble numbers,
Loosening but a stammering tongue;
That should clothe great acts in song,
Stirring but in feeble numbers,
Loosening but a stammering tongue;
Still, as well my soul presages,
Mightier voices soon will sound,
Which shall ring through all the ages,
While the nations listen round.
Mightier voices soon will sound,
Which shall ring through all the ages,
While the nations listen round.
For even now the thoughts are waking,
And the deeds are being done,
Deeds and thoughts, the poet's making,
Whence his solemn heart is won.
And the deeds are being done,
Deeds and thoughts, the poet's making,
Whence his solemn heart is won.
If Thermopylæ's three hundred,
They who kept the pass so well,—
If at them all time has wondered,
As they fought, and as they fell,
They who kept the pass so well,—
If at them all time has wondered,
As they fought, and as they fell,
With their deed of duty cast they
Our six hundred in the shade,
When at that same bidding passed they
To their closing death-parade?
Our six hundred in the shade,
When at that same bidding passed they
To their closing death-parade?
172
Let them their due praise inherit,
Those of weaker woman-kind,
Who in times past owned a spirit,
Which has left man's strength behind;
Those of weaker woman-kind,
Who in times past owned a spirit,
Which has left man's strength behind;
Yet our hearts and hearts' devotion
Wait upon that noble train,
Who have crossed the distant ocean
For a fellowship with pain;
Wait upon that noble train,
Who have crossed the distant ocean
For a fellowship with pain;
Seeking, as men seek for riches,
Painful vigils by the bed
Where the maimed and dying stretches
Aching limbs beside the dead:
Painful vigils by the bed
Where the maimed and dying stretches
Aching limbs beside the dead:
And for this great suffering nation
Sealed those fountains shall not prove,
Those old springs of inspiration,
Mighty death, and mightier love.
Sealed those fountains shall not prove,
Those old springs of inspiration,
Mighty death, and mightier love.
But meanwhile, the pauses filling,
Till that deeper soul be stirred,
Mother-land, thou wilt be willing
That some fainter notes be heard.
Till that deeper soul be stirred,
Mother-land, thou wilt be willing
That some fainter notes be heard.
What if thou in bitter mourning
Dost beside the graves recline
Of thy last and unreturning,
Yet no Rachel's grief is thine.
Dost beside the graves recline
Of thy last and unreturning,
Yet no Rachel's grief is thine.
Stately grief, not wild and tameless,
Thine, the privileged to see
Gentle, simple, named and nameless,
Willing all to die for thee;
Thine, the privileged to see
Gentle, simple, named and nameless,
Willing all to die for thee;
173
Foremost names in thine old story,
Foremost in these death-rolls shown,
Heirs no more of others' glory,
But the makers of their own.
Foremost in these death-rolls shown,
Heirs no more of others' glory,
But the makers of their own.
Thy great mother-heart is bleeding,
Torn and piercëd through and through,
Post on heavy post succeeding,
Bearing each some anguish new.
Torn and piercëd through and through,
Post on heavy post succeeding,
Bearing each some anguish new.
Yet the right thy bosom strengthens,
Nought in thee of courage dies,
Though the long sad death-roll lengthens,
Ever lengthens in thine eyes.
Nought in thee of courage dies,
Though the long sad death-roll lengthens,
Ever lengthens in thine eyes.
These are gone; thou nursest others
Of the same heroic breed,
Good as they, their spirits' brothers,
To their hazards to succeed.
Of the same heroic breed,
Good as they, their spirits' brothers,
To their hazards to succeed.
Then, while this thy grief's proud fashion,
From all weakness far removed,
This thy steadfast solemn passion
By the graves of thy beloved,
From all weakness far removed,
This thy steadfast solemn passion
By the graves of thy beloved,
Thou wilt let him pass unchidden,
Wilt perchance vouchsafe an ear,
Who too weakly and unbidden
Dares to sound their praises here;
Wilt perchance vouchsafe an ear,
Who too weakly and unbidden
Dares to sound their praises here;
This slight tribute of his bringing
Thou wilt not in scorn put by;
And wilt pardon one for singing,
While so many do and die.
Thou wilt not in scorn put by;
And wilt pardon one for singing,
While so many do and die.
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