 | Songs in the Whirlwind |  |
SOLILOQUY.
(To R. B.)
“I found him in the shining of the stars,
I marked him in the flow'ring of his fields,
But in his ways with men I find him not.”
I marked him in the flow'ring of his fields,
But in his ways with men I find him not.”
So many hearts are saddened by the grief
That shakes the world, and darkens all our sky,
That shakes our trust in Love, and our belief
In all the laws and creeds we live thereby;
That shakes the world, and darkens all our sky,
That shakes our trust in Love, and our belief
In all the laws and creeds we live thereby;
So many souls are broken on the wheel,
So many lives are cast into the void;
So many hearts know nought but pain, and feel
The barrenness of life with Love destroyed.
So many lives are cast into the void;
So many hearts know nought but pain, and feel
The barrenness of life with Love destroyed.
Our feet now stumble where they firmly trod,
The new world's circle seems to grow more dim;
The soul stands still and seeks the face of God
Ere we can raise our dying trust in Him.
The new world's circle seems to grow more dim;
The soul stands still and seeks the face of God
Ere we can raise our dying trust in Him.
For everywhere the earth is strewn with graves,
And clothed with memories of Yesterday;
And everywhere the evergreen now waves
Above our Youth so early put away.
And clothed with memories of Yesterday;
And everywhere the evergreen now waves
Above our Youth so early put away.
Dear lost companions of a rose-lit youth
Who sang the songs of childhood clear and pure,
What voice shall point the wisdom of this truth
And teach our souls this sorrow to endure?
Who sang the songs of childhood clear and pure,
What voice shall point the wisdom of this truth
And teach our souls this sorrow to endure?
O sad awakening! where is the faith
To bear us through this place of tombs? what sense
To see this life in sorrow's robing wraith
Gethsemane to some great recompense?
To bear us through this place of tombs? what sense
To see this life in sorrow's robing wraith
Gethsemane to some great recompense?
13
Yet still the lily waves her pure cold bell,
The red rose blooms on many a sobbing shore;
Still are the west winds sighing all is well,
The twilights keep their tryst for evermore.
The red rose blooms on many a sobbing shore;
Still are the west winds sighing all is well,
The twilights keep their tryst for evermore.
Yet still a song steals through the haunted air
While Death can laugh at triumph over Life;
The world is still as ever wholly fair,
And Nature laughs while rent with bitter strife.
While Death can laugh at triumph over Life;
The world is still as ever wholly fair,
And Nature laughs while rent with bitter strife.
Strange paradox of passion, pain and joy!
Who then shall read the riddle of it all?
What voice shall know the accents to employ
To lead us to the faith that shall not fall?
Who then shall read the riddle of it all?
What voice shall know the accents to employ
To lead us to the faith that shall not fall?
Shall we for ever yearn for ecstasies
That live in some vain world beyond our own?
And follow steadfastly the prophecies
That count for nought with every sad hour flown?
That live in some vain world beyond our own?
And follow steadfastly the prophecies
That count for nought with every sad hour flown?
Shall we for ever seek elusive joys
That beat their wings beyond our futile reach?
For ever know the pain that loss employs,
And taste the lees of sad unuttered speech?
That beat their wings beyond our futile reach?
For ever know the pain that loss employs,
And taste the lees of sad unuttered speech?
Were it not wise to slay the dream we love?
To banish all the longing from our eyes?
To break the pinions of the pure white Dove
That seeks some refuge in the darkened skies?
To banish all the longing from our eyes?
To break the pinions of the pure white Dove
That seeks some refuge in the darkened skies?
To stretch our arms ere it may be too late,
And grasp our Moment, even while it pass?
The supreme Hour, which, even while we wait
Lies half forgotten under the world's grass?
And grasp our Moment, even while it pass?
The supreme Hour, which, even while we wait
Lies half forgotten under the world's grass?
To laugh at Death that dreams eternally,
The victor of our earthly conquerings?
To lose the hope of Life supernally,
And drown the soul's immortal questionings?
The victor of our earthly conquerings?
To lose the hope of Life supernally,
And drown the soul's immortal questionings?
Were it not wise to grasp this thing that flies
E'en now with Night unto forgetfulness?
Rather than seek the Dawn that may not rise,
The barren Promise, and the Emptiness?
E'en now with Night unto forgetfulness?
Rather than seek the Dawn that may not rise,
The barren Promise, and the Emptiness?
14
The sad recurrence of a Joy denied,
The Unattainable, the still unborn;
Were it not wise Life's sorrowings to hide
In laughter for a Night and dead at Dawn?
The Unattainable, the still unborn;
Were it not wise Life's sorrowings to hide
In laughter for a Night and dead at Dawn?
To leave undreamed the dream of Life divine?
To turn our face from the dark gates of Death?
To seek to read no more the stars that shine,
The wondrous Sun, the Moon that answereth?
To turn our face from the dark gates of Death?
To seek to read no more the stars that shine,
The wondrous Sun, the Moon that answereth?
To cease our gazing through the curtained dark,
And laugh to-day although our hearts may break?
To stay our weeping as the souls embark,
And scorn the throne yea! for the sunset's sake?
And laugh to-day although our hearts may break?
To stay our weeping as the souls embark,
And scorn the throne yea! for the sunset's sake?
To leave unknown the great Infinities,
And wrest no more the secrets from their grasp?
The wonders of the deep Eternities
Inviolate in their immortal clasp?
And wrest no more the secrets from their grasp?
The wonders of the deep Eternities
Inviolate in their immortal clasp?
In one wild sweep of Passion that is Pain
To sink our burdens in the stream that flows
Into Forgetfulness—and back again
To mock the soul that thought it was the close?
To sink our burdens in the stream that flows
Into Forgetfulness—and back again
To mock the soul that thought it was the close?
To lay down all remembrance of past days,
And strip our robing cloak of memory?
To tread no more along the winding ways
That lead to God, and Wisdom's treasury?
And strip our robing cloak of memory?
To tread no more along the winding ways
That lead to God, and Wisdom's treasury?
For even we ourselves shall lie at last
In the gray earth washed by the summer rain;
Shall we not then forget the ruined Past,
The Happiness of Life, and all its Pain?
In the gray earth washed by the summer rain;
Shall we not then forget the ruined Past,
The Happiness of Life, and all its Pain?
We know these things of Passion fair and fleet
Are but the torrent of the earth's desires;
Shall we then heed the sensuous voice and sweet
Or keep the soul's inviolate altar-fires?
Are but the torrent of the earth's desires;
Shall we then heed the sensuous voice and sweet
Or keep the soul's inviolate altar-fires?
With steadfast eyes still seek the veiled Ideal
Beyond all sorrow and all wisdom fair?
Or heed the voice across the centuries steal
“Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!”?
Beyond all sorrow and all wisdom fair?
Or heed the voice across the centuries steal
“Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!”?
15
Howe'er it be, this one thing we all know,
The Spirit's dream into our keeping fell;
She triumphed when the Roman was laid low,
She lives to-day divine, invincible.
The Spirit's dream into our keeping fell;
She triumphed when the Roman was laid low,
She lives to-day divine, invincible.
And she who saw the conquering Cæsar fall,
The immortal Soul, still keeps her sacred trust;
Our mortal dreams are hers, she makes them all
Divine while empires fall into the dust.
The immortal Soul, still keeps her sacred trust;
Our mortal dreams are hers, she makes them all
Divine while empires fall into the dust.
Born with the first creation's golden dawn,
Unconquered yet she knows not any rest,
By some austere, immortal strength upborne,
She keeps her secrets in a human breast.
Unconquered yet she knows not any rest,
By some austere, immortal strength upborne,
She keeps her secrets in a human breast.
Neglected often through forgotten years,
Tossed by man's fickle faith and unbelief,
As now, she knew sad smiles and bitter tears,
Made wise by pain and tender by her grief.
Tossed by man's fickle faith and unbelief,
As now, she knew sad smiles and bitter tears,
Made wise by pain and tender by her grief.
We kneel to-day before a crumbling shrine,
With eyes wherein flash lights of hope and pain;
We chant our elegies, and wreaths entwine
The altar till the Vision come again.
With eyes wherein flash lights of hope and pain;
We chant our elegies, and wreaths entwine
The altar till the Vision come again.
O Priestess in the temple of our God,
Bear us that we may scorn the earth's desires!
Help us to tread the path the dreamer trod,
To guard the ancient, holy altar fires!
Bear us that we may scorn the earth's desires!
Help us to tread the path the dreamer trod,
To guard the ancient, holy altar fires!
Help us to seek the things divine, unseen,
To guard and keep unbroken all thy laws,
Even as thou thyself hast often been
The guardian of a dear forgotten cause.
To guard and keep unbroken all thy laws,
Even as thou thyself hast often been
The guardian of a dear forgotten cause.
Thou too hast thy disciples strong and fair,
And Faith the dearest, with the love-lit eyes,
Shall be our rod to climb the darkened stair,
Shall still our pain and make us our replies.
And Faith the dearest, with the love-lit eyes,
Shall be our rod to climb the darkened stair,
Shall still our pain and make us our replies.
Still will we seek the beauteous shore of dreams,
And kill our passion with its sad, sweet shame;
Still will we hope although ofttimes it seems
The quiet end shall always be the same.
And kill our passion with its sad, sweet shame;
Still will we hope although ofttimes it seems
The quiet end shall always be the same.
16
These things touch not the soul, inviolate,
She walks a pilgrim o'er the blood-stained sod;
With Sorrow clothed, with Wisdom shall she wait,
Companioned by the silences of God.
She walks a pilgrim o'er the blood-stained sod;
With Sorrow clothed, with Wisdom shall she wait,
Companioned by the silences of God.
| Songs in the Whirlwind | |