 | Fleet Street and Other Poems |  |
38
RAILWAY STATIONS
I
LONDON BRIDGE
Much tolerance and genial strength of mind
Unbiassed witnesses who wish to find
This railway-station possible at all
Must cheerfully expend. Artistical
Ideas wither here: a magic power
Alone can pardon and in pity dower
With fictive charm a structure so immane.
How then may fancy, to begin with, feign
An origin for such a roundabout
Approach—so intricate, yet so without
Intention, and so spanned by tenebrous
And thundering viaducts? Grotesquely, thus:—
One night the disposition of the ward
Was shifted; for the streets with one accord,
Enfranchised by a landslip, danced the hay
And innocently jumbled up the way.
And so we enter. Here, without perhaps,
Except the automatic money-traps,
Inside the station, everything's so old,
So inconvenient, of such manifold
Perplexity, and, as a mole might see,
So strictly what a station shouldn't be,
That no idea minifies its crude
And yet elaborate ineptitude,
But some such fancied cataclysmal birth:—
Out of the nombles of the martyred earth
This old, unhappy terminus was hurled
Back from a day of small things when the world
At twenty miles an hour still stood aghast,
And thought the penny post mutation vast
As change itself. Before the Atlantic race
Developed turbined speed; before life's pace
Was set by automobilism; before
The furthest stars came thundering at the door
To claim close kindred with the sons of men;
Before the lettered keys outsped the pen;
Ere poverty was deemed the only crime
Or wireless news annihilated time,
Divulged now by an earthquake in the night,
This ancient terminus first saw the light.
Unbiassed witnesses who wish to find
This railway-station possible at all
Must cheerfully expend. Artistical
Ideas wither here: a magic power
Alone can pardon and in pity dower
With fictive charm a structure so immane.
How then may fancy, to begin with, feign
An origin for such a roundabout
Approach—so intricate, yet so without
Intention, and so spanned by tenebrous
And thundering viaducts? Grotesquely, thus:—
One night the disposition of the ward
Was shifted; for the streets with one accord,
39
And innocently jumbled up the way.
And so we enter. Here, without perhaps,
Except the automatic money-traps,
Inside the station, everything's so old,
So inconvenient, of such manifold
Perplexity, and, as a mole might see,
So strictly what a station shouldn't be,
That no idea minifies its crude
And yet elaborate ineptitude,
But some such fancied cataclysmal birth:—
Out of the nombles of the martyred earth
This old, unhappy terminus was hurled
Back from a day of small things when the world
At twenty miles an hour still stood aghast,
And thought the penny post mutation vast
As change itself. Before the Atlantic race
Developed turbined speed; before life's pace
Was set by automobilism; before
The furthest stars came thundering at the door
To claim close kindred with the sons of men;
Before the lettered keys outsped the pen;
Ere poverty was deemed the only crime
Or wireless news annihilated time,
40
This ancient terminus first saw the light.
A natural magic having gravely made
This desperate station possible, delayed
No longer by its character uncouth,
The innocent adventurer, seeking truth
Imaginative, if it may be, plays
His vision, penetrant as chemic rays,
Upon the delta wide of platforms, whence
Discharges into London's sea, immense
And turbulent, a brimming human flood,
A river inexhaustible of blood
That turns the wheels, and by a secret, old
As labour, changes heart-beats into gold
For those that toil not; all the gutters run,
Houses are daubed, with it; and moon and sun
Splashed as they spin. And yet this human tide,
As callous as the glaciers that glide
A foot a day, but as a torrent swift,
Sweeps unobservant save of time—for thrift
Or dread disposes clockwards every glance—
Right through a station which a seismic dance
Chimerical alone can harmonize
Even in imagination's friendly eyes.
This desperate station possible, delayed
No longer by its character uncouth,
The innocent adventurer, seeking truth
Imaginative, if it may be, plays
His vision, penetrant as chemic rays,
Upon the delta wide of platforms, whence
Discharges into London's sea, immense
And turbulent, a brimming human flood,
A river inexhaustible of blood
That turns the wheels, and by a secret, old
As labour, changes heart-beats into gold
For those that toil not; all the gutters run,
Houses are daubed, with it; and moon and sun
Splashed as they spin. And yet this human tide,
As callous as the glaciers that glide
A foot a day, but as a torrent swift,
Sweeps unobservant save of time—for thrift
Or dread disposes clockwards every glance—
Right through a station which a seismic dance
41
Even in imagination's friendly eyes.
Clearly a brimming tide of mind as well
As blood, whose ebb and flow is buy and sell,
Engulfed by London's storm and stress of trade
Before it reached the civic sea, and made
Oblivious, knowing nought terrestrial
Except that time is money, and money all.
As blood, whose ebb and flow is buy and sell,
Engulfed by London's storm and stress of trade
Before it reached the civic sea, and made
Oblivious, knowing nought terrestrial
Except that time is money, and money all.
Or when a portly dealer, well-to-do,
Chances to see it as he passes through,
Or boy or girl not yet entirely swamped
In ways and means and business of accompt,
About the many-platformed embouchure
And utterance of suburban life obscure
A liberal œillade tosses, with a note
Chromatic, crimson van and crimson coat,
The parcel-post, and many a crimson shrine
Of merchandise mechanical combine
To reassure them as a point of war
Inspires the soldier; for the cannon's roar,
The trumpet's blast, the thunder of the drum
Are crimson motives; and the city's hum,
The noise of battle, and a ruddy sky
May echo in the selfsame harmony.
Chances to see it as he passes through,
Or boy or girl not yet entirely swamped
In ways and means and business of accompt,
About the many-platformed embouchure
And utterance of suburban life obscure
A liberal œillade tosses, with a note
Chromatic, crimson van and crimson coat,
The parcel-post, and many a crimson shrine
Of merchandise mechanical combine
To reassure them as a point of war
Inspires the soldier; for the cannon's roar,
The trumpet's blast, the thunder of the drum
Are crimson motives; and the city's hum,
The noise of battle, and a ruddy sky
May echo in the selfsame harmony.
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Save when the glance of age whose brisk affairs
Look up on 'Change, of youth untouched by care's
Inhibitory wand that palsies thought,
No other gracious sign appears, nor aught
Distinctly personal, innate or earned,
In the dull, rapid passage of concerned
Expression from the station to the street,
Until a dire resemblance of defeat
In one set visage hides the common face:
Such a premonstrant shadow of disgrace,
Such gray alarm, such sickening for despair
Is only seen in urban crowds, for there
The broken broker feels himself alone,
Exempt from scrutiny even of his own
Protean introspection, and as free
As genius, or as fallen spirit, to be
The very image of the thing he is—
A figure on the brink of the abyss,
The failure and the scapegoat of the mart,
The loser in the game, the tragic part
Wherein some novice mastered by the play
Without rehearsal triumphs every day.
Look up on 'Change, of youth untouched by care's
Inhibitory wand that palsies thought,
No other gracious sign appears, nor aught
Distinctly personal, innate or earned,
In the dull, rapid passage of concerned
Expression from the station to the street,
Until a dire resemblance of defeat
In one set visage hides the common face:
Such a premonstrant shadow of disgrace,
Such gray alarm, such sickening for despair
Is only seen in urban crowds, for there
The broken broker feels himself alone,
Exempt from scrutiny even of his own
Protean introspection, and as free
As genius, or as fallen spirit, to be
The very image of the thing he is—
A figure on the brink of the abyss,
The failure and the scapegoat of the mart,
The loser in the game, the tragic part
Wherein some novice mastered by the play
Without rehearsal triumphs every day.
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II
LIVERPOOL STREET STATION
Through crystal roofs the sunlight fell,
And pencilled beams the gloss renewed
On iron rafters balanced well
On iron struts; though dimly hued,
With smoke o'erlaid, with dust endued,
The walls and beams like beryl shone;
And dappled light the platforms strewed
With yellow foliage of the dawn
That withered by the porch of day's divan.
And pencilled beams the gloss renewed
On iron rafters balanced well
On iron struts; though dimly hued,
With smoke o'erlaid, with dust endued,
The walls and beams like beryl shone;
And dappled light the platforms strewed
With yellow foliage of the dawn
That withered by the porch of day's divan.
The fragrant, suave autumnal air
A dulcet Indian summer breathed,
Able to reach the inmost lair
Unclean of London's interwreathed
And labyrinthine railways, sheathed
In annual increments of soot:
Memories of regions parked and heathed,
Of orchards lit with golden fruit
Attuned October's subterranean lute.
A dulcet Indian summer breathed,
Able to reach the inmost lair
Unclean of London's interwreathed
And labyrinthine railways, sheathed
In annual increments of soot:
Memories of regions parked and heathed,
Of orchards lit with golden fruit
Attuned October's subterranean lute.
44
But orchards lit with golden lamps,
Or purple moor, or nutbrown stream,
Or mountains where the morn encamps
Frequent no station-loafer's dream:
A breed of folk forlorn that seem
The heirs of disappointment, cast
By fate to be the preacher's theme,
To hunger daily and to fast,
And sink to helpless indigence at last.
Or purple moor, or nutbrown stream,
Or mountains where the morn encamps
Frequent no station-loafer's dream:
A breed of folk forlorn that seem
The heirs of disappointment, cast
By fate to be the preacher's theme,
To hunger daily and to fast,
And sink to helpless indigence at last.
From early morn they hang about
The bookstall, the refreshment-room;
They pause and think, as if in doubt
Which train to go by; now assume
A jaunty air, and now in gloom
They take the platform for a stage
And pace it, meditating doom—
Their own, the world's; in baffled rage
Condemning still the imperceptive age.
The bookstall, the refreshment-room;
They pause and think, as if in doubt
Which train to go by; now assume
A jaunty air, and now in gloom
They take the platform for a stage
And pace it, meditating doom—
Their own, the world's; in baffled rage
Condemning still the imperceptive age.
Like aromatic wine that does
As wine will do with living clay,
The wonderful, anachronous,
Autumnal-summertidal day
Seduced a laboured soul to play
The idler:—(one who could rehearse
Unheard-of things; whose thoughts were gray
With travail, and whose reason scarce
Escaped the onslaught of the universe:
As wine will do with living clay,
The wonderful, anachronous,
Autumnal-summertidal day
45
The idler:—(one who could rehearse
Unheard-of things; whose thoughts were gray
With travail, and whose reason scarce
Escaped the onslaught of the universe:
Yet one who waged an equal strife,
And, unsubdued, beyond the sad
Horizon of terrestrial life
In noisome cloud and thunder clad,
And death-cries of the past that bade
Repent, above the galaxy
Enthroned himself; and, sane or mad,
Magnanimously claimed to be
The soul and substance of eternity.)
And, unsubdued, beyond the sad
Horizon of terrestrial life
In noisome cloud and thunder clad,
And death-cries of the past that bade
Repent, above the galaxy
Enthroned himself; and, sane or mad,
Magnanimously claimed to be
The soul and substance of eternity.)
He, then, to whom all things were great
By virtue of his native power,
Applauded autumn's sumptuous state,
And meant to share her golden hour—
Her kiss that moved the faded flower
To blush again, the haunting time
And witchcraft of her inmost bower,
Restoring for an afternoon
The bosom and the fragrant skirts of June.
By virtue of his native power,
Applauded autumn's sumptuous state,
And meant to share her golden hour—
Her kiss that moved the faded flower
To blush again, the haunting time
And witchcraft of her inmost bower,
Restoring for an afternoon
The bosom and the fragrant skirts of June.
46
He booked to Epping Street. The train
Drew out and clanking idly strayed
Along the line with dull refrain
That mocked the exigence of trade.
At Woodford milkmen long delayed
The journey; and at Snaresbrook noise
Broke out, and passengers inveighed
Against the line: such bitter joys
Two-faced occasion brings. At Theydon Bois,
Drew out and clanking idly strayed
Along the line with dull refrain
That mocked the exigence of trade.
At Woodford milkmen long delayed
The journey; and at Snaresbrook noise
Broke out, and passengers inveighed
Against the line: such bitter joys
Two-faced occasion brings. At Theydon Bois,
At Chigwell Lane and Loughton, all
Complacent forest hamlets, folk,
Since chance itself might not forestall
Their sylvan leisure, tarrying, spoke
On footboards poised; and this one's joke,
And that one's parting comment, wound
A strand of laughter through the smoke
And pulsing steam, whose rhythmic sound
With pliant wheels a thundrous music ground.
Complacent forest hamlets, folk,
Since chance itself might not forestall
Their sylvan leisure, tarrying, spoke
On footboards poised; and this one's joke,
And that one's parting comment, wound
A strand of laughter through the smoke
And pulsing steam, whose rhythmic sound
With pliant wheels a thundrous music ground.
From Epping Street where half a score
Inviting hostels lie between
The upper forest and the lower,
The bounds and metes of that demesne
That once from Waltham surged in green
Luxuriance to the northern tide,
The lover of the fall's serene
Miraculous renascence hied
By turnpike, woodland path and forest-ride.
Inviting hostels lie between
The upper forest and the lower,
The bounds and metes of that demesne
47
Luxuriance to the northern tide,
The lover of the fall's serene
Miraculous renascence hied
By turnpike, woodland path and forest-ride.
A purple haze that scarce could keep
Diaphanous consistence spread
Above the ridged perspective deep
Of Epping Forest; overhead,
With arabesque of shining thread
As manifold as jewelled dyes,
In varied beauty interwed
A snowy vapour damaskwise
Endued the tenderest of turquoise skies.
Diaphanous consistence spread
Above the ridged perspective deep
Of Epping Forest; overhead,
With arabesque of shining thread
As manifold as jewelled dyes,
In varied beauty interwed
A snowy vapour damaskwise
Endued the tenderest of turquoise skies.
Ripples of cloud like silver strands
Escaloped by continual surge,
The seaboard of fantastic lands,
Defined the welkin's orient verge:
He heard afar the airy dirge
Of breaking billows, saw the foam
In heaven mantle, spindrift scourge
The zenith, and their shadows roam
Across the woods like coveys flying home.
Escaloped by continual surge,
The seaboard of fantastic lands,
Defined the welkin's orient verge:
He heard afar the airy dirge
Of breaking billows, saw the foam
In heaven mantle, spindrift scourge
The zenith, and their shadows roam
Across the woods like coveys flying home.
48
A herd of clouds with fleeces rent
Flocked in the west; an aigret plumed
The low-hung northern firmament;
But in the south a shadow loomed
Like chaos out of eld exhumed
To re-engulf the world long lost
In time; and yet the darkness bloomed
With sprays of bronze like briars tossed,
With hidden flower and fruit of flame embossed.
Flocked in the west; an aigret plumed
The low-hung northern firmament;
But in the south a shadow loomed
Like chaos out of eld exhumed
To re-engulf the world long lost
In time; and yet the darkness bloomed
With sprays of bronze like briars tossed,
With hidden flower and fruit of flame embossed.
He heard the woodman's fateful strokes
In Epping Thicket, blow on blow,
Where spaciously the loftiest oaks
In all the forest precincts grow.
The rose, the bramble and the sloe
Muffled the holly, hid the thorn;
And berries blushed with diverse glow
Of gradual colour like the morn,
Whose changing hues the ravished east adorn.
In Epping Thicket, blow on blow,
Where spaciously the loftiest oaks
In all the forest precincts grow.
The rose, the bramble and the sloe
Muffled the holly, hid the thorn;
And berries blushed with diverse glow
Of gradual colour like the morn,
Whose changing hues the ravished east adorn.
In many a dome of russet green,
Without a centre shaft to draw
The branches round it, might be seen,
Once more with tender-hearted awe,
The burning bush religion saw—
The nightshade's coral hanging free,
The scarlet hip, the crimson haw,
The swarthy bramble lovingly
Enwreathed as in a myriad-minded tree.
Without a centre shaft to draw
The branches round it, might be seen,
Once more with tender-hearted awe,
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The nightshade's coral hanging free,
The scarlet hip, the crimson haw,
The swarthy bramble lovingly
Enwreathed as in a myriad-minded tree.
The bramble leaves, with iron mould
Distained, like metal foliage glanced;
The fluted beech, in ruddy gold
Accoutred bravely, countenanced
The yellow thorn, whose hue enhanced
In turn the heather's rusty ore;
The bracken, faded all, advanced
Along the forest's pillared floor—
A tawny tide upon an emerald shore.
Distained, like metal foliage glanced;
The fluted beech, in ruddy gold
Accoutred bravely, countenanced
The yellow thorn, whose hue enhanced
In turn the heather's rusty ore;
The bracken, faded all, advanced
Along the forest's pillared floor—
A tawny tide upon an emerald shore.
But eager frosts that braise and brand
Autumnal foliage still delayed;
Green was the forest, green the land,
A fibrous sward, a toothsome blade:
The cow-bells rang in every glade
Their quaint memorial refrain,
A ghostly sound by change unlaid;
The year stood still; and summer, fain
As in her prime, usurped the world again.
Autumnal foliage still delayed;
Green was the forest, green the land,
A fibrous sward, a toothsome blade:
The cow-bells rang in every glade
Their quaint memorial refrain,
A ghostly sound by change unlaid;
The year stood still; and summer, fain
As in her prime, usurped the world again.
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The chrysosperm in sunbeams pent
A largesse squandered. Rich as light
Of rainbow brede, the forest-scent;
And subtler, keener than the white
Aroma of the stars at night
That maddens lovers wandering late
Betrothed in destiny's despite;
As searching as the importunate
And supersensuous ether uncreate.
A largesse squandered. Rich as light
Of rainbow brede, the forest-scent;
And subtler, keener than the white
Aroma of the stars at night
That maddens lovers wandering late
Betrothed in destiny's despite;
As searching as the importunate
And supersensuous ether uncreate.
A doe stepped forth and pried about
With wondering look and watchful ear,
Then vanished. Venturous birds burst out
As in the heyday of the year
With summer song in snatches, clear
As water dropping in a well;
Harmonious from a turret near
Replied a silvery vesper-bell;
The braided light grew golden; evening fell.
With wondering look and watchful ear,
Then vanished. Venturous birds burst out
As in the heyday of the year
With summer song in snatches, clear
As water dropping in a well;
Harmonious from a turret near
Replied a silvery vesper-bell;
The braided light grew golden; evening fell.
In Highbeach Holt, a place alone,
A wonder of the world, antique
Protected beeches straightly grown,
Or pollarded of yore and meek
Transmuters of the shapeless freak
The iron wrought throughout the years
To symmetry, that all things seek
For ever, they, the verderer's
Most cherished vert in all his marks and meres,
A wonder of the world, antique
Protected beeches straightly grown,
Or pollarded of yore and meek
51
The iron wrought throughout the years
To symmetry, that all things seek
For ever, they, the verderer's
Most cherished vert in all his marks and meres,
Upon a forest fabric stood
Three-piles of leaves and fruitful mast,
That carpeted the upland wood
And crypts and bowers, obscure and vast
In the close twilight waning fast:
Some scumbled moss, with here and there
A stroke of scanty herbage, cast
A chord of green, remarked and rare
Among the russet spreading everywhere.
Three-piles of leaves and fruitful mast,
That carpeted the upland wood
And crypts and bowers, obscure and vast
In the close twilight waning fast:
Some scumbled moss, with here and there
A stroke of scanty herbage, cast
A chord of green, remarked and rare
Among the russet spreading everywhere.
All still and stately ancient trees,
With stem erect and ample bole,
Maintained their native majesties
In leafy robe and verdant stole
Invested, green from fork to poll;
Old, gnarled and thundersmitten, some
Uncouthly grew, the sylvan soul
By brutal accident become
A tortured wraith in hideous anguish dumb.
With stem erect and ample bole,
Maintained their native majesties
In leafy robe and verdant stole
Invested, green from fork to poll;
Old, gnarled and thundersmitten, some
Uncouthly grew, the sylvan soul
By brutal accident become
A tortured wraith in hideous anguish dumb.
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The saplings flourished straight and tall
Like living palisades a-row,
Their lance-like stems in vertical
And rhythmic parallels below;
Above like crayon lines that flow
Obliquely through each other, swart
Immingled boughs in writhen throe
A cross-hatched canopy athwart
The precinct flung and roofed the arboured court.
Like living palisades a-row,
Their lance-like stems in vertical
And rhythmic parallels below;
Above like crayon lines that flow
Obliquely through each other, swart
Immingled boughs in writhen throe
A cross-hatched canopy athwart
The precinct flung and roofed the arboured court.
A silence like the dead of night
The ebon-pillared emerald walls
Immured; a dusky latticed light
Fulfilled the high-groined cloisters, halls,
Occult recesses, wildwood stalls
In glimmering chancel-aisles arrayed;
And violet beams at intervals
Illumed the forest-girdled glade
Through rents and loopholes in the beechen shade.
The ebon-pillared emerald walls
Immured; a dusky latticed light
Fulfilled the high-groined cloisters, halls,
Occult recesses, wildwood stalls
In glimmering chancel-aisles arrayed;
And violet beams at intervals
Illumed the forest-girdled glade
Through rents and loopholes in the beechen shade.
With hue and form so diverse stored,
Beauty and wonder, vaulted space
By fantasy alone explored,
The solitude and rich embrace
Soul-clasping of that silent place
So sphered his vision, steeped his brain
In dreams, that he beheld no trace
Of mundane things, nor hint nor stain
Of twilight or of night, until again
Beauty and wonder, vaulted space
By fantasy alone explored,
The solitude and rich embrace
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So sphered his vision, steeped his brain
In dreams, that he beheld no trace
Of mundane things, nor hint nor stain
Of twilight or of night, until again
He reached the city. Then and there
A potent urban spell subdued
The forest's, for the sorcerer
Of sorcerers is multitude.
Three railway-stations closely brood
Together by the Bishop's Gate,
That ancient, famous neighbourhood;
And nowhere more profoundly, late
Or early, can the nameless sense of fate
A potent urban spell subdued
The forest's, for the sorcerer
Of sorcerers is multitude.
Three railway-stations closely brood
Together by the Bishop's Gate,
That ancient, famous neighbourhood;
And nowhere more profoundly, late
Or early, can the nameless sense of fate
In numbers immanent be felt
Than in these eastern haunts at night,
Where eddying tumults surge and melt,
Like clouds beneath remorseless light
In streets and garnished windows, bright
As for some celebration high,
While tides of transit at the height
In rival modes of passage vie,
And wheel and hoof and automobile ply.
Than in these eastern haunts at night,
Where eddying tumults surge and melt,
Like clouds beneath remorseless light
In streets and garnished windows, bright
As for some celebration high,
While tides of transit at the height
In rival modes of passage vie,
And wheel and hoof and automobile ply.
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Barbaric shouts and shrieks he heard,
Like cries of wrath or cries of ruth;
But no one laughed or spoke a word;
Master and man, and age and youth
In purposeless, intense, uncouth
Commotion seemed for ever lost,
Save those that wooed in saddest sooth
A hope forlorn, in all things crossed,
And yet resolved to live at any cost,
Like cries of wrath or cries of ruth;
But no one laughed or spoke a word;
Master and man, and age and youth
In purposeless, intense, uncouth
Commotion seemed for ever lost,
Save those that wooed in saddest sooth
A hope forlorn, in all things crossed,
And yet resolved to live at any cost,
The gutter-merchants. At the kerb
Fifty and five, a ghastly row,
With faces hell could not perturb
So rigid were they in their woe,
Self-centred stood. Life's undertow
Had dragged them down: a few were old,
A few were young, though fallen so low;
But most were in their prime: they sold
Unnecessary trifles manifold.
Fifty and five, a ghastly row,
With faces hell could not perturb
So rigid were they in their woe,
Self-centred stood. Life's undertow
Had dragged them down: a few were old,
A few were young, though fallen so low;
But most were in their prime: they sold
Unnecessary trifles manifold.
A while he watched them wonderstruck;
And scornfully they watched again.
Not these the undistinguished ruck
And ordinary run of men!
Their mystery seemed beyond his ken:
What brought such mortals there, so strong,
So resolute? How, where and when
Had fortune thrust them forth among
The sufferers unsalvable of wrong?
And scornfully they watched again.
Not these the undistinguished ruck
And ordinary run of men!
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What brought such mortals there, so strong,
So resolute? How, where and when
Had fortune thrust them forth among
The sufferers unsalvable of wrong?
Their eyes on fire, their wrinkles changed
To shadowed sculpture in the brute
Effulgence of the windows, ranged
Together closely, foot by foot,
Like giant marionettes, as mute,
As quick and as mechanical,
Fronting the shops, they made their suit
By signs alone; and each and all
Unhuman seemed, austere, asexual.
To shadowed sculpture in the brute
Effulgence of the windows, ranged
Together closely, foot by foot,
Like giant marionettes, as mute,
As quick and as mechanical,
Fronting the shops, they made their suit
By signs alone; and each and all
Unhuman seemed, austere, asexual.
And yet in faces drawn and starved
The tale of many a lingering fight
With circumstance was deeply carved;
Of hazardous attempts to smite
A passage through the solid night
The outcast beats his head against;
To enter, maugre might and right,
A huckstering world, alike incensed
By challengers and suppliants, and fenced
The tale of many a lingering fight
With circumstance was deeply carved;
Of hazardous attempts to smite
A passage through the solid night
The outcast beats his head against;
To enter, maugre might and right,
A huckstering world, alike incensed
By challengers and suppliants, and fenced
56
About with adamantine hearts.
He thought, “As well would it behove
The morning to invade the marts;
Or that the dawn should live and move
Within an iceberg! Nought can prove
More terrible than toil for hire,
Or toil at all, to these; the groove,
The settled habit men desire—
They find it torture and the nether fire.
He thought, “As well would it behove
The morning to invade the marts;
Or that the dawn should live and move
Within an iceberg! Nought can prove
More terrible than toil for hire,
Or toil at all, to these; the groove,
The settled habit men desire—
They find it torture and the nether fire.
“On every lip, on every brow
I see their dreadful secret lurk;
All work to them is thraldom now;
They hate to work, they cannot work.
This last expedient still they shirk,
And every day resolve to fly
From hell:—No hope, no fear, no quirk
Of conscience, in the public eye
Shall stand us there again who dare to die!
I see their dreadful secret lurk;
All work to them is thraldom now;
They hate to work, they cannot work.
This last expedient still they shirk,
And every day resolve to fly
From hell:—No hope, no fear, no quirk
Of conscience, in the public eye
Shall stand us there again who dare to die!
“But all have made it up with fate
Sincerely by the evening! Soon,
Or when the irksome night is late
And in the west the wintry moon
Disdains the city, or at noon
When the huge welter of the day
Goes thundering past them to a tune
They cannot sing, the old dismay
Victorious seems and death the only way.
Sincerely by the evening! Soon,
Or when the irksome night is late
And in the west the wintry moon
57
When the huge welter of the day
Goes thundering past them to a tune
They cannot sing, the old dismay
Victorious seems and death the only way.
“Diurnally recurrent strife!
Some carry poison; always there
The silent river flows; now life,
Now death, the makeweight of despair
Determines; but the end is ne'er
In doubt:—In utter obloquy,
In utter woe, we greatly dare
To live, since those alone are free
Who keep the power to be or not to be.
Some carry poison; always there
The silent river flows; now life,
Now death, the makeweight of despair
Determines; but the end is ne'er
In doubt:—In utter obloquy,
In utter woe, we greatly dare
To live, since those alone are free
Who keep the power to be or not to be.
“Such is their dread, their awful lot—
To live with palsied souls and numb
Affections! Higher courage not
With sound of prayer or sound of drum
In battle or in martyrdom
Was ever shown by saint or knight!
They stand at gaze through wearisome
Eternities, by ruthless light
Betrayed and scorned and shuddered at, invite
To live with palsied souls and numb
Affections! Higher courage not
With sound of prayer or sound of drum
In battle or in martyrdom
Was ever shown by saint or knight!
They stand at gaze through wearisome
Eternities, by ruthless light
Betrayed and scorned and shuddered at, invite
58
“The passers-by to spend the pence
That keep them tortured in the pit
Wherein their supersubtle sense
Entrapped them, and the fire their wit
Prepared, their pride and passion lit!
Only the miracle, mankind,
Can face this hell of the unfit—
Only the universe enshrined
In lordly flesh and blood and lordly mind”.
That keep them tortured in the pit
Wherein their supersubtle sense
Entrapped them, and the fire their wit
Prepared, their pride and passion lit!
Only the miracle, mankind,
Can face this hell of the unfit—
Only the universe enshrined
In lordly flesh and blood and lordly mind”.
| Fleet Street and Other Poems | |