Chapter VI: Part II: Children of Freedom (2)

Do you guess how wide this Ocean is?

Do you know how it rolls its waters away beyond the farthest horizon that you have imagined?

Afar, afar—spreading blue beneath the sun by coasts of calm and tropic beauty, by coasts of tumbling laughing beauty, by bays and bars and river-narrow straits?—

This ocean of the heart?—

Afar, afar—or bearing on its breast the great white-sailed ships of the earth, or the broad disc of the moon, or the images of men’s homes in unimagined lands?

* * * * *

Thought you, frail phantom roaming by the shore,

Gazing wide into the night—a stranger where you had fancied yourself most at home—

Thought you that this great Ocean was to be like an ornamental water in your garden?

Thought you that you knew whence these convulsive waves?—the winds that stirred them, the deeps where they were born?

Think you they weep your sorrows alone, or shake the ground only under your feet?

* * * * *

Not so! not so!

But ever flowing from afar,

From the immeasurable past, from the illimitable shores of human life for ever flowing—on its margin passionately breaking,

With strange uncipherable meanings, whose words are the myriad years,

With speechless terror and amazement to the children beside it,

With amazement of expanded identity, and the inflow of immortal swift-riding purposes, incontrollable, leading straight to death,

In living procession out of the deep—O child! to you they come,

These waves of your great heart, rolling flowing without end:

Through long long ages, under storm and sunshine, by day and night, in indomitable splendor rolling,

At your feet now mournfully breaking.

THUS AS I YEARNED FOR LOVE

Thus as I yearned for love,

At length the clouds parted,

And I knew the old old vision:

Him with the sorrowful eyes (pain, unrelenting pain),

With the distant piercing unapproachable eyes, I knew,—

The face from the murky clouds disclosed, and withdrawn again.

* * * * *

O night, fold upon fold, impenetrable, with silent tears in the darkness falling—mute night, remover of all evidence!

O dawn, with early rising almost before it is light, and preparations for a long journey!

O day, with children playing by the roadside, and greetings exchanged, and cheery demeanor!

* * * * *

And somewhere, unseen, over all, the same unapproachable eyes looking as ever down.

ETERNAL HUNGER

Eternal Hunger! O through the black night
Rave, Winds. The forest fanes
Tremble, rock, crash, and ring incessantly
The cry of homeless spirits. Roar
Ye torrents from the mountains. Roar O Sea,
Rave under the pale stars. O gulf of Death
Yawn blackening beneath.
But O great Heart,
O Love greater than all,
Over the mountains the forests and the seas,
O’er the black chasm of death, in spectral haste
Thou ridest, and the hungry winds and waves
Are but Thy hounds: Thou the eternal huntsman!

Great heart and lonely, indomitable in pride
As the pale Titan! a storm-battling eagle
Art thou above the promontory of the world;
Aý, and ah me!
A tender little bird
Wind-blown and baffled from its nest for ever.

Pain, ah! eternal pain.
I hear Aeolian harpings wail and die
Down forest glades, and through the hearts of men,
Pain, pain, eternal pain!
High round the cloud-girt pinnacle of gaunt snow
I hear the wind moan Pain, eternal pain.

O man, O child of Man!
Thou frail and baffled bird, thou weary thing,
Thou strong to suffer, of satanic pride,
I take thee up into this height of pain,
And shew thee all the kingdoms of the earth,
Yea, all the kingdoms of the hearts of men—
The pure and light-strewn kingdoms of strong love:

Gaze long in silence, friend; gaze long for all are thine.

CHILD OF THE LONELY HEART

Child of the lonely heart, O clinging supplicating soul, Through thy chamber, thy prison, thy palace, the body, solitary roaming, The great world through the windows sadly, questioningly exploring.—

_O love, love, love, At thy feet, By thy side, My hand if only resting in thine: See, I am so little, I ask so little— If thou wilt take this little overflowing cup Into thy great ocean._

_O love, love, love, Thee alone. Always only thee: I find nothing beautiful but thee. Lo! when I look forth, what is it all? These lines of houses, This sad interminable sky, This gay life—which is my pretext—but underneath I am sick sick at heart For one touch of true love._

_O love, love, love, Since I was a little child, and till I die, the same. Nothing I reserve— I am so little and I ask so little: If thou wilt take this little overflowing cup Into thy great ocean._

Child of the lonely heart, O clinging supplicating soul, Through thy chamber, thy prison, thy palace— Ah! children, through the world, through the ages, by thousands and thousands, by millions and millions,

Unaware, unwhispered—in your own great fellowship uninitiate— Blindly yearning, tentatively questioningly darkly exploring, Through the great Mother-heart eternally ascending!

TO ONE WHO IS WHERE THE ETERNAL ARE

Pass friend pass:
Lest body and soul with desire I be consumed,
Pass, pass from me.
Your eyes burn in upon me. Out of the night,
Out of the darks of time, flashing, out of the still
Still height I cannot attain to, solemnly
Stedfastly gazing—
Their light pierces my brain.

O this is cruel!
Knowing that I cannot attain,
Why do you mock me?—passing me like a shadow,
Passing, passing, and again returning;
In the night within me like a great star shining,

In the world without passing me like a shadow.
If I were the yellow sands your feet once trod,
By the deep blue where they were still delaying;
Were I the sea that clipped your body round,
The shores, the ships,—
Ah me!—
Were I the thing your hand most idly touched,
The light that fell upon your Southern home,
The murmur of the forest in your ears,
Where you, friend, once walked, dreaming!

Time answers like the closing of a door,
I am an exile. The swift years have set
Their gulf between us—you are safe from me;
Torment me then no longer: pass O pass,
Kiss me with shadowy lips, and pass from me.

I see the deep gulf roll below me now—
The leaden-colored flood, the scum, the swirl,
The shadow-peopled banks.
I feel the cold dank wind: Death blows upon it.
I reel upon the edge—
Sickness comes o’er me, clammy faintness, death.

2

Now am I near to Death.
The world for me is changed. The noiseless wing
Sways over all. The mountains are unreal,
The stones I walk on are not stones, the air
Breathes from another world, the voices call,
The hands I grasp remind me. All is still,
Still as deep night within. Without, the world
Hangs beautiful and distant like a vision.

Hush! all is silent.—
Now it is very near.
Noiselessly through the darkness, noiselessly
Gliding—ah! nearer nearer!
Softly out of the night, with soft step stealing
Nearer, ah, nearer!
With faint breath over Ocean, fresh and cool,
Death! death! O friend,
O far-infolder, speak! Is it Thou indeed
Pouring faint fragrance, drowning drowning me
Out of the world at length?—at length O friend,
O hesitating long!

Ah! let me die!
Snatch me thou Wonderful,
Thou with Almighty arms, enfold me, crush me
Close through all creature-pain at length to Thee.

3

The passion is gone past. Now know I that death has been near me all my life—that it is a part of my life. [O beautiful Ocean! O dim fluid plains and aerial distances! O headland where I stand for ever gazing!]

The passion is gone past. O friend, pale friend, stay with me now I pray. Your eyes no more Out of the dark consume me—fitfully flashing Where the great waves break, weary without end.

Swaying swaying, softly eternally swaying, The flood lies calm now. Stay with me then I pray. Dwell with me through the day; And through the night, and where it is neither night nor day, Dwell quietly. Pass pass not any more.

Thou canst not pass. I too am where thou art: through all this life I walk the quiet kingdoms of the dead Fast hand in hand with thee. Press now the sweet life of thy lips on mine; I hold thee fast: Not by the yellow sands nor the blue deep, But in my heart thy heart of hearts— A great star, growing, shining.

THROUGH THE LONG NIGHT

You, proud curve-lipped youth, with brown sensitive face,

Why, suddenly, as you sat there on the grass, did you turn full upon me those twin black eyes of yours,

With gaze so absorbing so intense, I a strong man trembled and was faint?

Why in a moment between me and you in the full summer afternoon did Love sweep—leading after it in procession across the lawn and the flowers and under the waving trees huge dusky shadows of Death and the other world?

I know not.

Solemn and dewy-passionate, yet burning clear and stedfast at the last,

Through the long night those eyes of yours, dear, remain to me—

And I remain gazing into them.

TO A STRANGER

O faithful eyes, day after day as I see and know you—unswerving faithful and beautiful—going about your ordinary work unnoticed,

I have noticed—I do not forget you.

I know the truth the tenderness the courage, I know the longings hidden quiet there.

Go right on. Have good faith yet—keep that your unseen treasure untainted.

Many shall bless you. To many yet, though no word be spoken, your face shall shine as a lamp.

It shall be remembered, and that which you have desired—in silence—shall come abundantly to you.

TO A FRIEND

Faithful eyes, fail not.

Though sorrows come upon you, though temptations try, though age and grief assault you—fail not, fail not.

How many hang upon you for your light,

Shining in darkness—as the stars that shine

Upon the mighty deep for mariners!

O eyes, be true, give all away for that—

Give all your days and all good name and honor,

If need should be, for that. That we may steer

Through the dark night by you.

OF THE LOVE THAT YOU POURED FORTH

Of the love that you poured forth, dear friend, in vain—like a cup of water in the wide and thirsty desert—but it was all your life to you,

Do you dream that it is lost?

Perhaps it is—it may well seem so just now to you—yet indeed I do not think so.

AS A WOMAN OF A MAN

Democracy!

O sombre swart face, now thou art very beautiful to me!

O haughty brow, with glittering withdrawn eyes, not a little contemptuous,

Thou art very beautiful to me!

* * * * *

I am as a child before thee;

All that I have learned, all my fancical knowledge,

My familiarity with times and distances,

All my refinement is nothing—my delicate hands, manners,

My glibness is nothing;

I crave the touch of thy soul, thou strong one,

I crave thy love.

* * * * *

Come! who art no longer a name:

Gigantic Thou, with head aureoled by the sun—wild among the mountains—

Thy huge limbs naked and stalwart erected member,

Thy lawless gait and rank untameable laughter,

Thy heaven-licking wildfire thoughts and passions—

I desire.

* * * * *

All conventions, luxuries, all refinements of civilization, and tyrannous wants,

Acquisitions, formulated rules, rights, prescriptions, and whatever constitutes a barrier—

I discard.

* * * * *

All the cobwebs of science, and precedents and conclusions of authority,

All possessions, and impedimenta of property, all rights of bundles and baggage—

I disown.

* * * * *

I stand prepared for toil, for hardship—this instant if need be to start on an unforeseen and distant journey—

I am wholly without reserve:

As a woman of a man so I will learn of thee,

I will draw thee closer and closer,

I will drain thy lips and the secret things of thy body,

I will conceive by thee, Democracy.

O LOVE—TO WHOM THE POETS

O love—to whom the poets have made verses—

Whom the shepherds on the hills have piped to, and maidens sighed within their lonely bowers,

Whom the minstrels have sung, handing down their songs from one generation to another—

To thy praise over the world resounding

I add my strain.

* * * * *

Not because thou art fair;

Not because thine eyes glance winningly, nor because of the sly arch of thine eyebrows;

Not because thy voice is like music played in the open air,

And thy coming like the dawn on the far-off mountains;

Not because thou comest with the dance and the song, and because the flashing of thy feet is like the winds of Spring;

Nor because thou art sweetly perfumed,

Do I praise thee.

* * * * *

Not because thy dwelling is among knights and ladies—afar from all that is common or gross;

Not because thou delayest to the sound of playing fountains on marble terraces,

And white hands caress thee and clip thy wing-feathers,

And meek thoughts and blameless conversation attend thee;

Not because thy place is among the flowers and the wine-cups in spacious halls,

And because the sight of Death appals thee;

Nor because, love, thou art a child:

* * * * *

But because as on me now, full-grown giantesque out of the ground out of the common earth arising,

Very awful and terrible in heaven thou appearest;

Because as thou comest to me in thy majesty sweeping over the world with lightnings and black darkness,

[And the old order shrivels and disappears from thy face,]

I am as a leaf borne, as a fragrance exhaled before thee—

As a bird crying singed by the prairie-fire;

Because Thou rulest O glorious, and before thee all else fails,

And at thy dread new command—at thy new word Democracy—the children of the earth and the sea and the sky find their voices, and the despised things come forth and rejoice;

Because in thy arms O strong one I laugh Death to scorn—nay I go forth to meet him with gladness;

Ay, because thou takest away from me all strength but thine own,

Because thou takest all doubt and power of resistance,

Because out of disallowed and unaccepted things—and always out of these—full-armed and terrific,

Like a smiting and consuming flame, O Love, O Democracy,

Even out of the faces and bodies of the huge and tameless multitudes of the Earth,

A great ocean of fire with myriad tongues licking the vault of heaven,

Thou arisest—

Therefore O love O flame wherein I burning die and am consumed, carried aloft to the stars a disembodied voice—

O dread Creator and Destroyer,

Do I praise Thee.

WHO YOU ARE I KNOW NOT

Who you are I know not, but I have it before me that you shall know.

For a certainty you are not greater or less than me: I neither look upon you with envy nor with pity, with deference nor with contempt.

Endowments and dignities and accomplishments are of no account whatever; but honesty, and to stand in time under the great law of Equality—after which you will be satisfied, and joy will take possession of you.

Till then, farewell. Do not follow me, but go your own way voyaging—and then haply some time we shall meet.

HAVE FAITH

Do not hurry: have faith.

Remember that if you become famous you can never share the lot of those who pass by unnoticed from the cradle to the grave, nor take part in the last heroism of their daily life;

If you seek and encompass wealth and ease the divine outlook of poverty cannot be yours—nor shall you feel all your days the loving and constraining touch of Nature and Necessity;

If you are successful in all you do, you cannot also battle magnificently against odds;

If you have fortune and good health and a loving wife and children, you cannot also be of those who are happy without these things.

* * * * *

Covet not overmuch. Let the strong desires come and go; refuse them not, disown them not; but think not that in them lurks finally the thing you want.

Presently they will fade away and into the intolerable light will dissolve like gossamers before the sun.

2

Do not hurry: have faith.

The sportsman does not say, I will start a hare at the corner of this field, or I will shoot a turkey-buzzard at the foot of that tree;

But he stands indifferent and waits on emergency, and so makes himself master of it.

So do you stand indifferent, and by faith make yourself master of your life.

For all things are possible, yet at any one time and place only one thing is possible;

And all things are good, yet at any one time and place can you extract the good only from that which is before you.

Have faith. If that which rules the universe were alien to your soul, then nothing could mend your state—there were nothing left but to fold your hands and be damned everlastingly.

But since it is not so—why what can you wish for more?—all things are given into your hands.

Do you pity a man who having a silver mine on his estate loses a shilling in a crack in his house-floor?

And why should another pity you?

3

Do not hurry.

As at the first day the clouds suffused with light creep over the edges of the hills, the young poplar poises itself like an arrow planted in the ground, the birds warble with upturned bills to the sun;

The sun rises on hundreds of millions of human beings; the hemisphere of light follows the hemisphere of darkness, and a great wave of life rushes round the globe;

The little pigmies stand on end (like iron filings under a magnet) and then they fall prone again. And this has gone on for millions of years and will go on for millions more.

* * * * *

Absolve yourself to-day from the bonds of action.

[Wait, wait ever for the coming of the Lord. See that you are ready for his arrival.]

Begin to-day to understand that which you will not understand when you read these words for the first time, nor perhaps when you have read them for the hundredth time.

Begin to-day to understand why the animals are not hurried, and do not concern themselves about affairs, nor the clouds nor the trees nor the stars—but only man—and he but for a few thousand years in history.

[For it is one thing to do things, but another to be concerned about the doing of them.]

Behold the animals. There is not one but the human soul lurks within it, fulfilling its destiny as surely as within you.

The elephant, the gnat floating warily towards its victim, the horse sleeping by stolen snatches in the hot field at the plough, or coming out of the stable of its own accord at the sound of the alarm bell and placing itself in the shafts of the fire-engine—sharing the excitement of the men; the cats playing together on the barn floor, thinking no society equal to theirs, the ant bearing its burden through the grass—

Do you think that these are nothing more than what you see? Do you not know that your mother and your sister and your brother are among them?

4

I saw deep in the eyes of the animals the human soul look out upon me.

I saw where it was born deep down under feathers and fur, or condemned for awhile to roam fourfooted among the brambles. I caught the clinging mute glance of the prisoner, and swore that I would be faithful.

Thee my brother and sister I see and mistake not. Do not be afraid. Dwelling thus and thus for a while, fulfilling thy appointed time—thou too shalt come to thyself at last.

Thy half-warm horns and long tongue lapping round my wrist do not conceal thy humanity any more than the learned talk of the pedant conceals his—for all thou art dumb we have words and plenty between us.

Come nigh little bird with your half-stretched quivering wings—within you I behold choirs of angels, and the Lord himself in vista.

Crooning and content the old hen sits—her thirteen chicks cheep cheerily round her, or nestle peeping out like little buds from under her wings;

Keen and motherly is her eye, placid and joyful her heart, as the sun shines warm upon them.

5

Do not hurry: have faith.

[Whither indeed should we hurry? is it not well here?

A little shelter from the storm, a stack of fuel for winter use, a few handfuls of grain and fruit—

And lo! the glory of all the earth is ours.]

The main thing is that the messenger is perhaps even now at your door—and to see that you are ready for his arrival:

A little child, a breath of air, an old man hobbling on crutches, a bee lighting on the page of your book—who knows whom He may send?

Some one diseased or dying, some friendless, outcast, criminal—

One whom it shall ruin your reputation to be seen with—yet see that you are ready for his arrival.

* * * * *

Likely whoever it is his coming will upset all your carefully laid plans;

Your most benevolent designs will likely have to be laid aside, and he will set you to some quite commonplace business, or perhaps of dubious character—

Or send you a long and solitary journey; perhaps he will bring you letters of trust to deliver—perhaps the prince himself will appear—

Yet see that you are ready for his arrival.

* * * * *

Is your present experience hard to bear?

Yet remember that never again perhaps in all your days will you have another chance of the same.

Do not fly the lesson, but have a care that you master it while you have the opportunity.

6

These things I say not in order to excite thought in you—rather to destroy it—

Or if to excite thought, then to excite that which destroys itself;

For what I say is not born of thought and does not demand thought either for comprehension or proof;

And whoever dwells among thoughts dwells in the region of delusion and disease—and though he may appear wise and learned yet his wisdom and learning are as hollow as a piece of timber eaten out by white ants.

Therefore though thought should gird you about, remember and forget not to disendue it, as a man takes off his coat when hot; and as a skilful workman lays down his tool when done with, so shall you use thought and lay it quietly aside again when it has served your purpose.

7

A veil of illusion hangs following the lines of all things,

Over the trees and running waters, and up the sides of the mountains and over the sea and the cities, and circling the birds in the air as they fly—

So that these themselves you see not, only the indications of them, and yourself you see not, only the indication.

As long as through the eyes of desire, and of this and that, you look—and of vanity; as long as you hurry after results and are overwhelmed with the importance of anything you can do or leave undone—so long will the veil lie close, do not be deceived.

* * * * *

On all sides God surrounds you, staring out upon you from the mountains and from the face of the rocks, and of men, and of animals.

Will you rush past for ever insensate and blindfold—hurrying breathless from one unfinished task to another, and to catch your ever-departing trains—as if you were a very Cain flying from his face?

* * * * *

Resume the ancient dignity of your race, lost, almost forgotten as it is.

What is it surely that you are fretting about? Is it the fashions, or what men say about you, or the means of livelihood, or is it the sense of duty this way and that, or trivial desires, that will not let you rest?

Are you so light, like a leaf, that such things as these will move you—are you so weak that one such slender chain will deprive you of inestimable Freedom?

And yet the lilies of the field and the beasts that have no banks of deposit or securities are not anxious: they have more dignity than you.

* * * * *

As long as you harbor motives so long are you giving hostages to the enemy; while you are a slave (to this and that) you can only obey. It is not You who are acting at all.

Brush it all aside.

Pass disembodied out of yourself. Leave the husk, leave the long long prepared and perfected envelope.

Enter into the life which is eternal, pass through the gate of indifference into the palace of mastery, through the door of love out into the great open of deliverance;

Give away all that you have, become poor and without possessions—and behold! you shall be lord and sovereign of all things.

I HEARD A VOICE

I heard a voice say unto me:—

Now since thou art neither beautiful nor witty, it is in vain that thou hangest about the doors of the admired palaces;

For thou wilt not gain admission—thou!

* * * * *

But here outside is a plot of waste ground where canst build thee a little cabin—all thine own;

And since it is close by the common road and there is no fence about it,

Many a weary traveler parched with the heat of the day shall turn in unto thee for a cup of cold water.

And that shall suffice for Thy life.

I KNOW THAT YOU ARE SELF-CONSCIOUS

I know that you are self-conscious,

That you are troubled—haunted—tormented. It is not pleasant!

* * * * *

But how wonderful is the mere sense of space in the world—after the sick-chamber and days of illness!

And how wonderful is the sense of measureless space in the soul, and of freedom, thenceforth inalienable!

Look then in the glass once more, and satisfy yourself thoroughly about it:

Do you not see, this time, that there is some one else looking in it also,

Beside you, over your shoulder?

WHO ARE YOU

Who are you who go about to save them that are lost?

Are you saved yourself?

* * * * *

Do you not know that who would save his own life must lose it?

Are you then one of the ‘lost’?

* * * * *

Be sure, very sure, that each one of these can teach you as much as, probably more than, you can teach them.

Have you then sat humbly at their feet, and waited on their lips that they should be the first to speak—and been reverent before these children—whom you so little understand?

Have you dropped into the bottomless pit from between yourself and them all hallucination of superiority, all flatulence of knowledge, every shred of abhorrence and loathing?

Is it equal, is it free as the wind between you?

Could you be happy receiving favors from one of the most despised of these?

Could you be yourself one of the lost?

* * * * *

Arise, then, and become a savior.

AMONG THE FERNS

I lay among the ferns,

Where they lifted their fronds, innumerable, in the greenwood wilderness, like wings winnowing the air;

And their voices went past me continually.

* * * * *

And I listened, and lo! softly inaudibly raining I heard not the voices of the ferns only, but of all living creatures:

Voices of mountain and star,

Of cloud and forest and ocean,

And of the little rills tumbling amid the rocks,

And of the high tops where the moss-beds are and the springs arise.

As the wind at mid-day rains whitening over the grass,

As the night-bird glimmers a moment, fleeting between the lonely watcher and the moon,

So softly inaudibly they rained,

Where I sat silent.

* * * * *

And in the silence of the greenwood I knew the secret of the growth of the ferns;

I saw their delicate leaflets tremble breathing an undescribed and unuttered life;

And, below, the ocean lay sleeping;

And round them the mountains and the stars dawned in glad companionship for ever.

* * * * *

And a voice came to me, saying:

In every creature, in forest and ocean, in leaf and tree and bird and beast and man, there moves a spirit other than its mortal own,

Pure, fluid, as air—intense as fire,

Which looks abroad and passes along the spirits of all other creatures, drawing them close to itself,

Nor dreams of other law than that of perfect equality;

And this is the spirit of immortality and peace.

* * * * *

And whatsoever creature hath this spirit, to it no harm may befall:

No harm can befall, for wherever it goes it has its nested home, and to it every loss comes charged with an equal gain;

It gives—but to receive a thousand-fold;

It yields its life—but at the hands of love;

And death is the law of its eternal growth.

* * * * *

And I saw that was the law of every creature—that this spirit should enter in and take possession of it,

That it might have no more fear or doubt or be at war within itself any longer.

And lo! in the greenwood all around me it moved,

Where the sunlight floated fragrant under the boughs, and the fern-fronds winnowed the air;

In the oak-leaves dead of last year, and in the small shy things that rustled among them;

In the songs of the birds, and the broad shadowing leaves overhead;

In the fields sleeping below, and in the river and the high dreaming air;

Gleaming ecstatic it moved—with joy incarnate.

And it seemed to me, as I looked, that it penetrated all these things, suffusing them;

And wherever it penetrated, behold! there was nothing left down to the smallest atom which was not a winged spirit instinct with life.

* * * * *

Who shall understand the words of the ferns lifting their fronds innumerable?

What man shall go forth into the world, holding his life in his open palm—

With high adventurous joy from sunrise to sunset—

Fearless, in his sleeve laughing, having outflanked his enemies?

His heart like Nature’s garden—that all men abide in—

Free, where the great winds blow, rains fall, and the sun shines,

And manifold growths come forth and scatter their fragrance?

Who shall be like a grave, where men may bury

Sin and sorrow and shame, to rise in the new day

Glorious out of their grave? who, deeply listening,

Shall hear through his soul the voices of all creation,

Voices of mountain and star, voices of all men,

Softly audibly raining?—shall seize and fix them,

Rivet them fast with love, no more to lose them?

Who shall _be_ that spirit of deep fulfilment,

Himself, self-centred? yet evermore from that centre

Over the world expanding, along all creatures

Loyally passing—with love, in perfect equality?

* * * * *

Him immortality crowns. In him all sorrow

And mortal passion of death shall pass from creation.

They who sit by the road and are weary shall rise up

As he passes. They who despair shall arise.

* * * * *

Who shall understand the words of the ferns winnowing the air?

_Death shall change as the light in the morning changes;_

_Death shall change as the light ’twixt moonset and dawn._

I HEARD THE VOICE OF THE WOODS

I heard the voice of the woods and of the grass growing silently and of the delicate bending ferns,

And it said:

For the dumb and for the generations of them that have no voice my speech is—

For them too help comes.

* * * * *

I am the spirit of the Earth.

Round me the woods and mountains roll, rising and falling to the far sea;

In the hollow below me roars the great river to its doom;

The clouds draw onward; and the voices of the generations of men are woven like thin gossamer through the air about me.

Yet here where I am there is peace—such as mortal yet on earth hath hardly known,

But which shall be known, and even now is known.

* * * * *

Where the stems stand dividing the winnowed sunlight,

Where the green floor is dappled with soft warm moss, and the swift hum of the bee is heard,

And the air glides through like a gracious spirit inbreathing beauty,

I walk—meditating the voiceless children, drawing them to myself with deep unearthly love.

* * * * *

Come unto me, O yearning and inarticulate (for whom so many ages I have waited),

Breathing your lives out like a long unuttered prayer,

Come unto me: and I will give you rest.

For I am not the woods nor the grass nor the bending ferns;

Nor any pale moonlight spirit of these;

And I am not the air;

Nor the light multitudinous life therein;

Nor the sun and its radiant warmth;

But I am one who include—and am greater—

One (out of thousands) who hold all these, embosomed,

Safe in my heart: fear not.

* * * * *

In your eyes deep-looking I will touch you so as to be free from all pain;

Where the last interpretations are, in the uttermost recesses, I will reach you;

Utterance at length shall your pent-up spirit have,

To pour out all that is in you—to speak and be not afraid.

* * * * *

Dear brother, listen!

I am no shadow, no fickle versemaker’s fiction,

Many are the words which are not spoken, but here there is speech;

Many are the words which are not spoken, but in due time all shall be spoken:

There is neither haste nor delay, but all shall be spoken.

* * * * *

Come up into the fragrant woods and walk with me.

The voices of the trees and the silent-growing grass and waving ferns ascend;

Beyond the birth-and-death veil of the seasons they ascend and are born again;

The voices of human joy and misery, the hidden cry of the heart—they too ascend into new perpetual birth.

All is interpreted anew:

In man the cataracts descend, and the winds blow, and autumn reddens and ripens;

And in the woods a spirit walks which is not wholly of the woods,

But which looks out over the wide Earth and draws to itself all men with deep unearthly love.

* * * * *

Come, walk with me:

On the soft moss—though you guess not my arm is about you—

By the white stems, where the gracious air is breathing,

On the green floor, through the pale green winnowed sunlight,

Walk: and leave all to me.

THE WIND CHANTS WELL TO-DAY

The wind chants well over the world to-day;

It runs in waves up the slopes of the corn-fields, and sounds deep and distant, like the sea, among the firs;

The tall grasses in sheltered spots quiver on their wiry stems—for it is flowering time—

And shake faint clouds of pollen upon the air.

* * * * *

Strange purposes inhabit the woodland hollows and the high air to-day;

The long-legged spider threading the blades of grass, touching trying retreating, encloses strange purposes, the wind encloses strange purposes.

* * * * *

But I know you well O wind—you cannot escape me.

You are very subtle, you have innumerable disguises:

You are one thing to the grass with its beautiful hanging anthers and branched stigma,

And another thing to the birds, and another to the solemn swaying fir-trees.

You conceal yourself well, O wind, but I am level with you to-day—you cannot hide yourself from me.

I go arm in arm, I ride over the world with you. I visit a thousand spots and leave my messages—

And am as invisible as you.

I AM A VOICE

I am a voice singing the song of deliverance—

Centuries long, centuries long, floating aloft in ecstasy.

Surprised at myself—to find myself looking out on this landscape here—to be engaged on these occupations and plans which people call mine, but which are not mine at all—to be living in this house which it is nothing to me whether I live in it or not—to be fretting myself with these and these anxieties and cares—to be this limited and foolish mortal that I am;

Yet again at intervals soaring aloft, going back again to my home in the sky,

To sing for all time

The song of joy—of deliverance.

O SEA, WITH WHITE LINES OF FOAM

O sea, with white lines of foam caught by the winter sun,

O pale blue transparent sky with wind, long stretches of coast faint-outlined, and waving grasses!

How often to seek you, out of the pent life of custom and brick perspective, a boy I came,

Filled with vague desires, hardly knowing what or wherefore—like thine, O restless sea and ceaseless blowing wind—

Came to pour forth my soul to yours, ye beautiful creatures—sad, sad, longing yearning without end!

* * * * *

Say, great sea—whose music continues to-day the same as then; O wonderful illimitable sky, the same; O grasses shivering just for all the world as now—

Say, have you not given me, by strange ways, the thing that I sought?

For now returning,

Satisfied, filled to the full of all desires, grateful as a lake sparkling in the sunshine,

Filled to the full, desiring yearning no more—faint only with joy and the fragrance of the love which distils from you—

Upon you I look once more.

* * * * *

Changed are your words; changed are your words O grasses and pale blue flowing winds, and yours ye streets and faces that pass along them!

Changed are your words to me.

I heard you—but it was as one that hears an unknown tongue; I thought I saw you, but I see that you deceived me.

And now I do not know why I should ever make another move—what you say has entirely checkmated me.

But to those that go forward, go ye ever forward before them; and to them that listen let your strange vocabulary continue.

HOME

Among all men my home is: I have seen them and there is no people, unto the ends of the earth, with whom I will not dwell.

* * * * *

I give my body to the sea and to the dust—to be dashed on the rocks, or to break in green spray in springtime over the fields and hedge-rows—or to lie rotting in the desert for the sustenance of flies;

My soul, if it be so, to peregrinate all creature-kingdoms and every condition of man—with equal joy the lowest;

But I to return, to remain, to turn again to my old home, to dwell—as ever—where the prince of love once led me,

When he touched the walls of my hut with his finger from within, and passing through like a fire delivered me with great unspeakable deliverance from all evil.

OFF GASPÉ

A few small huts, a narrow strip of cultivated land; Behind, the frowning mountains of Gaspé, forest-clad; in front, the wide sea-mouth of the St. Lawrence.

* * * * *

How lost and ignorant! says one passing by on board ship—wondering that life can be supported in such a place,

So rude and so remote—no arts, no papers, telegrams—scarcely the ordinary commodities!

The monotonous sea, the brief summer, the sullen forests, the scanty products of land and water, the occasional visits of the priest from over the mountains!

A living death—he says.

* * * * *

Yet here too—and in winter snow and ice—here too the human heart, not dead at all, just the same as in the midst of great cities, lives and blooms;

Here lies close to the sky and the rocks and the sea, and is at home—as the star is at home in the sky, and the daisy in the grass;

Without communication with New York or London, and yet in the centre of the world as much as either, and with news and telegrams coming from a long way farther.

* * * * *

O human heart!

Neither lost nor ignorant—living at first hand from thy source,

I perceive that thy home and mine are the same—one house though the doors be different.

Not here or there; not here, O friend, in the centre of the world and there outcast and forlorn [rather outcast and forlorn and lost and ignorant he who thinks thus]—

But ever at home—to thee greetings and congratulations and love wafted over the water,

I send.

* * * * *

A thousand gulls and guillemots on the calm sea-bosom in the flooding sun-warmth basking!

This ship sailing for thee, like a sign through a gleam of summer—thou dwelling between the steep forests and the shore with joy in thy heart as I have!

BY THE SHORE

All night by the shore.

The obscure water, the long white lines of advancing foam, the rustle and thud, the panting sea-breaths, the pungent sea-smell,

The great slow air moving from the distant horizon, the immense mystery of space, and the soft canopy of the clouds!

* * * * *

The swooning thuds go on—the drowse of ocean goes on:

The long inbreaths—the short sharp outbreaths—the silence between.

* * * * *

I am a bit of the shore: the waves feed upon me, they come pasturing over me;

I am glad, O waves, that you come pasturing over me.

I am a little arm of the sea: the same tumbling swooning dream goes on—I feel the waves all around me, I spread myself through them.

How delicious! I spread and spread. The waves tumble through and over me—they dash through my face and hair.

The night is dark overhead: I do not see them, but I touch them and hear their gurgling laughter.

* * * * *

The play goes on!

The strange expanding indraughts go on!

Suddenly I am the Ocean itself: the great soft wind creeps over my face.

I am in love with the wind—I reach my lips to its kisses.

How delicious! all night and ages and ages long to spread myself to the gliding wind!

But now (and ever) it maddens me with its touch: I arise and whirl in my bed, and sweep my arms madly along the shores.

* * * * *

I am not sure any more which my own particular bit of shore is;

All the bays and inlets know me: I glide along in and out under the sun by the beautiful coast-line;

My hair floats leagues behind me; millions together my children dash against my face;

I hear what they say and am marvelously content.

* * * * *

All night by the shore;

And the sea is a sea of faces.

* * * * *

The long white lines come up—face after face comes and falls past me—

Thud after thud. Is it pain or joy?

Face after face—endless!

* * * * *

I do not know; my sense numbs; a trance is on me—I am becoming detached!

I am a bit of the shore:

The waves feed upon me, they pasture all over me, my feeling is strangely concentrated at every point where they touch me;

I am glad O waves that you come pasturing over me.

* * * * *

I am detached, I disentangle myself from the shore; I have become free—I float out and mingle with the rest.

The pain, the acute clinging desire, is over—I feel beings like myself all around me, I spread myself through and through them, I am merged in a sea of contact.

Freedom and equality are a fact. Life and joy seem to have begun for me.

* * * * *

The play goes on!

Suddenly I am the great living Ocean itself—the awful Spirit of Immensity creeps over my face.

* * * * *

I am in love with it. All night and ages and ages long and for ever I pour my soul out to it in love.

I spread myself out broader and broader for ever, that I may touch it and be with it everywhere.

There is no end. But ever and anon it maddens me with its touch, I arise and sweep away my bounds.

* * * * *

I know but I do not care any longer which my own particular body is—all conditions and fortunes are mine.

By the ever-beautiful coast-line of human life, by all shores, in all climates and countries, by every secluded nook and inlet,

Under the eye of my beloved Spirit I glide:

O joy! for ever, ever, joy!

I am not hurried—the whole of eternity is mine;

With each one I delay, with each one I dwell—with you I dwell.

The warm breath of each life ascends past me;

I take the thread from the fingers that are weary, and go on with the work;

The secretest thoughts of all are mine, and mine are the secretest thoughts of all.

* * * * *

All night by the shore;

And the fresh air comes blowing with the dawn.

The mystic night fades—but my joy fades not.

I arise and cast a stone into the water (O sea of faces I cast this poem among you)—and turn landward over the rustling beach.

A MILITARY BAND

With open mouths and eyes intent they press around the stand,

A thousand listeners, in the flare of gas beneath the trees,

Young men and boys mostly, yet some older, and a few girls and women.

* * * * *

The red-coats sit in circle round their leader—solid and robust—their lips retracted, taking short quick breaths, their throats full-veined and swollen;

The first cornets ring out wild and clear, backed by the ripienos, the tenors and the trombones;

The euphonium takes its strong and leading part, the cry of the hautboy is heard—apart—like the cry of a wounded animal, the flutes and flageolets pipe merrily, and the drums resound.

* * * * *

But the circle of faces—pale in the flickering gas—scarcely moves.

Look! how intent they are, face after face, with eyes fixed, strained, as though they would pierce through brass and scarlet!

What is it you fix so intently, O faces, have you never seen a red-coat before?

But no, they hardly see the red-coats: though all eyes centre there they hardly see what is before them.

* * * * *

Lo! a great curtain hanging from the topmost sky right down to the bottom of creation—

Flat, enormous, without rent, covering the whole world (yet hardly half-an-inch in diameter)—

Before each listener it hangs, and on it all things are painted.

* * * * *

Wonderful, figured all over from top to bottom, from side to side, wonderful wonderful—and for each one different:

On it—for some—forms of lust displayed, the glory of limbs flame-girdled, floating from side to side, with fierce clutches of beauty—(O eyes no wonder you are intent!)

On it—for some—the battle-field mounting in smoke, the flag, the roar, the appalling roar of faced cannon, the certain death: the heroic the decisive the furious and disdainful act, the deathless figure of bravery—(O eyes no wonder you are intent!)

On it—see here!—a maiden at her window, peeping over her flowers: the pure, the sweet, the stainless starlike face, for the vow of true knighthood only—(O eyes no wonder you are intent!)

Lo there! even more beautiful, the face of year and year-long wife-hood: the friend, the trusted one without whom life cannot be imagined—dual love dividing and filling the universe—(O glistening eyes no wonder you are intent!)

On it—Ah! these are the eyes of the lost one, the departed mother: the tender watchful beseeching eyes, the sacred light—not God himself more sacred;

This is the glorious brow of comradeship, faithful unalterable, to heroic deeds arousing;

On it—here for this boy—scenes of the wild ocean and adventure, the ship in a storm, the raft, the lightning, and the rescue;

For another, ambition, the political arena, the debate, the crowded galleries, the centering of eyes;

The footlights of the stage, the murmured delight of the audience, the enthusiastic encore;

Scenes of travel, the lands of day-dreams and longing, the Andes, the Pacific, the Polar aurora and the ice, the trackless forests of Central America and Siberia and Western Australia, and of the Amazon; the wild animals of Central Africa;

The ancient cities, the historical world-old sites, the birth-places of gods, the thrones of kings, the centres of civilisation, the churches, ceremonials, processions, pilgrimages, the markets, railroads, great feats of engineering;

Faces, costumes, forms, objects innumerable—all these figured, arabesqued,

Running in free lines over the curtain which hangs from the zenith to the nadir;

And on it besides with the rest arabesqued and running,

The band-stand with the scarlet and the brass, and the conductor energetic with his baton in the midst, and the swollen veins and lithe lips of the first cornet player;

And on it running waved and dazzling the lines of gas against dark shade-masses of foliage—shot through with the electric scream of the flageolets and underborne with the deep thunder of drums;

And on it the faint blue evening sky and the faint faint stars behind it.

* * * * *

Wonderful, wonderful!

I too look upon the curtain: I see the figures, the symbols, the shining hieroglyphs written with free hand across it—I see the sun and moon;

I see the great dark background on which they are written—flat, enormous—falling from the zenith to the nadir.

See! how it flaps and sways in the cool night-air, as if it were about to give way—surely there is something behind it!—yet no rent.

Holding yet well together, holding your secret faithfully,

Curtain of each soul, curtain of creation, tiny curtain, vast enveloping all the universe,

Veil of the imperfect creature, under which the wings form—growing thinner momently and more transparent—

Amnion-veil of the vast universe—growing thinner—

O shot through with the scream of flageolets and underborne with the deep thunder of drums! almost pierced with the fixed gaze and strain of innumerable eyes!

Ah, wonderful wonderful!

Gazed upon thousands of years, nearer nearer, fascinating, drawing ever drawing multitudes towards it;

Children sitting at a theatre thinking the drop-scene the real play itself—others older guessing somewhat how the matter stands—lights dimly seen moving behind, corners lifted or swaying;

The Andes and Pacific dividing down their middle line, the vast forests disclosing in their depths, ancient cities blossoming like huge flowers and fading away in fragrance; the faint-blue star-spangled sky of evening rolling swiftly and noiselessly together, the round earth floating for a moment in the sunlight—and then gone, like the last patches of gold and blue on a soap-bubble; faces of brothers and sisters, faces of the speechless animals, opening back, myriads myriads of years back in perspective to him who sits upon the throne—

* * * * *

Ah, wonderful wonderful!

In the great dark of the night swaying floating like a flag which a gentle wind dwells among the folds of—

Great mother Thou that foldest all creatures in thy folds—

Whom to explore, the children traveling from ages and ages back, by long pilgrimages and routes labyrinthine ever pressing on, to decipher, to unravel, to read the words that are written:

Once more and the stars shall fall showering from thee—the shining hieroglyphs shall fade; black for a moment thou shalt hang—then rolling swiftly together—

* * * * *

Lo! what mortal eye hath not seen nor ear heard—

All sorrow finished—the deep deep ocean of joy opening within—the surface sparkling—

The myriad-formed disclosed, each one and all, all things that are, transfigured—

Being filled with joy, hardly touching the ground, reaching cross-shaped with out-stretched arms to the stars, along of the mountains and the forests, habitation of innumerable creatures, singing joy unending—

As the sun on a dull morning breaking through the clouds, so from behind the sun another sun, from within the body another body—these shattered falling—

Lo! now at last or yet awhile in due time to behold that which ye have so long sought—

O eyes no wonder you are intent.

WINGS

Wings, wings!

I beheld the young leaves breaking from the buds and poised on the tips of the branches;

I saw a squadron of anemones in the meadows all waving in the wind as impatient to take flight together;

I looked at the acorn buried in the earth, and lo! it divided and put forth two seed-wings; and the embryo plant resembled the penis and dual testicles of man and the animals;

And the starling like-shaped flew overhead through the trees, and the lark hung, a cross, in heaven;

And the butterfly flew by—emblem of the soul—and the bee hung downwards in the wind-flower cup;