Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
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The Skeleton.
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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
The Skeleton.
This hollow brainpan's like a pod,
The seed shook out; yet here a God
Dwelt for awhile, and through those eyes
Looked at the world with strange surmise.
The seed shook out; yet here a God
Dwelt for awhile, and through those eyes
Looked at the world with strange surmise.
Whether a murderer or king,
A parasite or baser thing,
Thou 'dst hope in youth, despair when old,
Great joy, and misery untold;
A parasite or baser thing,
Thou 'dst hope in youth, despair when old,
Great joy, and misery untold;
And look'dst as if all seen was old,
And life only a tale re-told.
With eyes of deep inquiry fixed;
Eyes—clay, with fiery essence mixed.
And life only a tale re-told.
With eyes of deep inquiry fixed;
Eyes—clay, with fiery essence mixed.
This head once like a blossom rose,
The flower the gardener's skill that shows,
The crown of this our human frame,
Full of all beauty tongue can name.
The flower the gardener's skill that shows,
The crown of this our human frame,
Full of all beauty tongue can name.
Where's now the heart, the fount of blood,
The spring of life's pulsating flood—
The heart that, till death's fevers parch,
Beats still its solemn funeral march?
The spring of life's pulsating flood—
The heart that, till death's fevers parch,
Beats still its solemn funeral march?
And where the crystal globes, though small,
Type of the planets, one and all,
Those windows of the human face,
The soul's peculiar dwelling-place?
Type of the planets, one and all,
Those windows of the human face,
The soul's peculiar dwelling-place?
Was this the head that thoughts conceived,
This hand to execute the deed?
The sinful mouth is passed away,
The workman hand is sodden clay.
This hand to execute the deed?
The sinful mouth is passed away,
The workman hand is sodden clay.
The brow, so furrowed with long pain,
Is passed into the earth again,
Swift as the last star fades in fear,
Hearing exulting chanticleer.
Is passed into the earth again,
Swift as the last star fades in fear,
Hearing exulting chanticleer.
No longer runs the branching vein
Where life and heat had once their reign,
Till death's cold torpor froze the flood,
And spread its opiate through the blood.
Where life and heat had once their reign,
Till death's cold torpor froze the flood,
And spread its opiate through the blood.
Could flesh and colour e'er enthrone
These dry brown pipes of porous bone—
This skull, the hovel of the mind,
To will, to loosen, and to bind?
These dry brown pipes of porous bone—
This skull, the hovel of the mind,
To will, to loosen, and to bind?
“Ungainly scaffold for mere use”—
So runs a flippant fool's abuse;
Behold the first sketch of the man,
The outline of God's mighty plan!
So runs a flippant fool's abuse;
Behold the first sketch of the man,
The outline of God's mighty plan!
First take a root, and then exclaim:
“What! this the rose that poets name
‘The king of flowers’?” Let beauty sheathe
The basement bones, nor look beneath.
“What! this the rose that poets name
‘The king of flowers’?” Let beauty sheathe
The basement bones, nor look beneath.
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“Wait till the crimson life-blood warms,
Clothe first with flesh the ruder forms;
Give me the bloom that pulsing glows,
And paints the cheeks with living rose.
Clothe first with flesh the ruder forms;
Give me the bloom that pulsing glows,
And paints the cheeks with living rose.
“Or let the blue of Summer nights
Fill the full eye with shifting lights;
Nor praise this outline of a man,
This bony scaffold's ghastly plan.”
Fill the full eye with shifting lights;
Nor praise this outline of a man,
This bony scaffold's ghastly plan.”
These bones, thou fool, have owned a God,
And felt the death-stroke of His rod;
Love, hate, and joy together filled
These veins, that once both thought and willed.
And felt the death-stroke of His rod;
Love, hate, and joy together filled
These veins, that once both thought and willed.
An angel from this house of clay,
Released by death, has fled away;
The fire's gone out, the door's ajar—
This aërolite was once a star.
Released by death, has fled away;
The fire's gone out, the door's ajar—
This aërolite was once a star.
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |