Lies

And with it as in scornThe present state descriedOf monsters heaven-bornAnd angels crucify’d,Where, scourged to unnatural toil,In palsy’d posture bent,Man creeping near the soilForgets the firmament.IIISince, since we first beganTo measure near and far,And know that the thoughts of manHis chiefest actions are,A thousand cries in soothCall us thro’ time amain,And every cry a truthAnd every truth a gain,And yet the needful task,To mend this state withal,Remains undone; we ask,What is the good of all?Do, cries the lofty seer;Believe, the prelate cries;Be, beauty’s priest austerePersuades. The man replies,‘We have three beds at homeWhere eight of us must lie;Three blankets and one room,My children, wife and I.All day our work we mind;But little money gain;At night the wintry windWhines thro’ the window-pane.’

And with it as in scornThe present state descriedOf monsters heaven-bornAnd angels crucify’d,

And with it as in scorn

The present state descried

Of monsters heaven-born

And angels crucify’d,

Where, scourged to unnatural toil,In palsy’d posture bent,Man creeping near the soilForgets the firmament.

Where, scourged to unnatural toil,

In palsy’d posture bent,

Man creeping near the soil

Forgets the firmament.

III

Since, since we first beganTo measure near and far,And know that the thoughts of manHis chiefest actions are,

Since, since we first began

To measure near and far,

And know that the thoughts of man

His chiefest actions are,

A thousand cries in soothCall us thro’ time amain,And every cry a truthAnd every truth a gain,

A thousand cries in sooth

Call us thro’ time amain,

And every cry a truth

And every truth a gain,

And yet the needful task,To mend this state withal,Remains undone; we ask,What is the good of all?

And yet the needful task,

To mend this state withal,

Remains undone; we ask,

What is the good of all?

Do, cries the lofty seer;Believe, the prelate cries;Be, beauty’s priest austerePersuades. The man replies,

Do, cries the lofty seer;

Believe, the prelate cries;

Be, beauty’s priest austere

Persuades. The man replies,

‘We have three beds at homeWhere eight of us must lie;Three blankets and one room,My children, wife and I.

‘We have three beds at home

Where eight of us must lie;

Three blankets and one room,

My children, wife and I.

All day our work we mind;But little money gain;At night the wintry windWhines thro’ the window-pane.’

All day our work we mind;

But little money gain;

At night the wintry wind

Whines thro’ the window-pane.’

So one doth read at easeWith comfortable wineDevout philosophiesThat say, for him, divine,To be, to bear, to act,To know oneself, be strong,Are all the heav’ns exact.He answers, ‘I am strong;I fear not any fate;I do; I nobly bear.’A beggar at his gateCries in the bitter air.

So one doth read at easeWith comfortable wineDevout philosophiesThat say, for him, divine,

So one doth read at ease

With comfortable wine

Devout philosophies

That say, for him, divine,

To be, to bear, to act,To know oneself, be strong,Are all the heav’ns exact.He answers, ‘I am strong;

To be, to bear, to act,

To know oneself, be strong,

Are all the heav’ns exact.

He answers, ‘I am strong;

I fear not any fate;I do; I nobly bear.’A beggar at his gateCries in the bitter air.

I fear not any fate;

I do; I nobly bear.’

A beggar at his gate

Cries in the bitter air.

LiesICome, lie to us, let us glow;Pour out the red wine; speak;Pour out the sweet lies—soWe shall be warm and sleek.Tell us in manner highThe flattering things that soothe;But hush the outer cryAnd crush the inner truth.What matters all the dinOf truth—discordant cries?We quaff the joyous wineAnd lap ourselves in lies.The lordly anthem pealsThe while the people rot;The gilded church revealsThe penury of their lot.No matter—let them starve!The gorgeous mass atones;These glorious arches serveTo sepulchre their bones.Come, hymn the dying wretchWith pæans on the harps;Nard and vermilion fetchTo paint and scent the corpse.IIInto the hand of man,When by the gods first form’d,They gave this talisman,The dull stone Reason, arm’d

LiesICome, lie to us, let us glow;Pour out the red wine; speak;Pour out the sweet lies—soWe shall be warm and sleek.

Lies

Come, lie to us, let us glow;

Pour out the red wine; speak;

Pour out the sweet lies—so

We shall be warm and sleek.

Tell us in manner highThe flattering things that soothe;But hush the outer cryAnd crush the inner truth.

Tell us in manner high

The flattering things that soothe;

But hush the outer cry

And crush the inner truth.

What matters all the dinOf truth—discordant cries?We quaff the joyous wineAnd lap ourselves in lies.

What matters all the din

Of truth—discordant cries?

We quaff the joyous wine

And lap ourselves in lies.

The lordly anthem pealsThe while the people rot;The gilded church revealsThe penury of their lot.

The lordly anthem peals

The while the people rot;

The gilded church reveals

The penury of their lot.

No matter—let them starve!The gorgeous mass atones;These glorious arches serveTo sepulchre their bones.

No matter—let them starve!

The gorgeous mass atones;

These glorious arches serve

To sepulchre their bones.

Come, hymn the dying wretchWith pæans on the harps;Nard and vermilion fetchTo paint and scent the corpse.

Come, hymn the dying wretch

With pæans on the harps;

Nard and vermilion fetch

To paint and scent the corpse.

Into the hand of man,When by the gods first form’d,They gave this talisman,The dull stone Reason, arm’d

Into the hand of man,

When by the gods first form’d,

They gave this talisman,

The dull stone Reason, arm’d

With which to brave the skiesAnd make the earth his throne.But to his infant eyesA brighter treasure shone—The tinsel Fancy, flameIllusive; and alas,He flung away the gemAnd took the glittering glass.IIIVain, vain the visions—vain,Dreams that intoxicateIn the dark day when menCome face to face with fate.Not out of knowledge grownThe empty dogmas rise,But gilded bubbles blownFrom the foul froth of lies.Cease! Let the lies be hurl’dBack to the darkling past.Truth, only, saves the world,And Science rules the vast.

With which to brave the skiesAnd make the earth his throne.But to his infant eyesA brighter treasure shone—

With which to brave the skies

And make the earth his throne.

But to his infant eyes

A brighter treasure shone—

The tinsel Fancy, flameIllusive; and alas,He flung away the gemAnd took the glittering glass.

The tinsel Fancy, flame

Illusive; and alas,

He flung away the gem

And took the glittering glass.

III

Vain, vain the visions—vain,Dreams that intoxicateIn the dark day when menCome face to face with fate.

Vain, vain the visions—vain,

Dreams that intoxicate

In the dark day when men

Come face to face with fate.

Not out of knowledge grownThe empty dogmas rise,But gilded bubbles blownFrom the foul froth of lies.

Not out of knowledge grown

The empty dogmas rise,

But gilded bubbles blown

From the foul froth of lies.

Cease! Let the lies be hurl’dBack to the darkling past.Truth, only, saves the world,And Science rules the vast.

Cease! Let the lies be hurl’d

Back to the darkling past.

Truth, only, saves the world,

And Science rules the vast.

Truth-Service and Self-ServiceIAlas! we know not whatWithholds us from the goalFor ever; an inner rotConsumes the seeing soul.Only the truth will serve;But he who follows it,And finds, has not the nerveTo rule the world with it.The cunning keep the crown;And fate decrees that heWho lives with truth aloneShall win no victory.IINot to be granted great,Not to be crowned in youth,His soul is passionateWith anger for the truth.He feels the spirit-drouth,He seeks the mad empriseTo mock the mocking mouthAnd smite the lips of lies.Not his the happy guileTo veil the flinching eye,Here where we sit and smileTo hear each other lie.But ours to live, forsooth;We keep a decent faceAnd seize the skirts of truthAnd skip into a place;

Truth-Service and Self-ServiceI

Truth-Service and Self-Service

Alas! we know not whatWithholds us from the goalFor ever; an inner rotConsumes the seeing soul.

Alas! we know not what

Withholds us from the goal

For ever; an inner rot

Consumes the seeing soul.

Only the truth will serve;But he who follows it,And finds, has not the nerveTo rule the world with it.

Only the truth will serve;

But he who follows it,

And finds, has not the nerve

To rule the world with it.

The cunning keep the crown;And fate decrees that heWho lives with truth aloneShall win no victory.

The cunning keep the crown;

And fate decrees that he

Who lives with truth alone

Shall win no victory.

Not to be granted great,Not to be crowned in youth,His soul is passionateWith anger for the truth.

Not to be granted great,

Not to be crowned in youth,

His soul is passionate

With anger for the truth.

He feels the spirit-drouth,He seeks the mad empriseTo mock the mocking mouthAnd smite the lips of lies.

He feels the spirit-drouth,

He seeks the mad emprise

To mock the mocking mouth

And smite the lips of lies.

Not his the happy guileTo veil the flinching eye,Here where we sit and smileTo hear each other lie.

Not his the happy guile

To veil the flinching eye,

Here where we sit and smile

To hear each other lie.

But ours to live, forsooth;We keep a decent faceAnd seize the skirts of truthAnd skip into a place;

But ours to live, forsooth;

We keep a decent face

And seize the skirts of truth

And skip into a place;

With bearded wisdom thenceOur noble plan unfoldFor gathering good—pretenceIndeed for gathering gold.But he—he cannot rise;He slowly falls apart;For all these human liesAre needles in his heart.He has the truth, he thinks;He shivers in his rags;The laughing liar chinksHis bursting money-bagsOf lie-begotten pelf,And climbs the ladder of liesTo fortune—for himself,And not for wisdom, wise.We crown the charlatan;But show to him who shapesA priceless work for manThe gratitude of apes.So one with toil hath writThe work which is his life.Being poor, he has no wit;His reader is his wife;They live in direst need;No fortunate patron showsThe work for men to read;He dies, and no one knows.A jealous rival burnsThe work he will not save;The buried poet turnsAnd mutters in his grave.

With bearded wisdom thenceOur noble plan unfoldFor gathering good—pretenceIndeed for gathering gold.

With bearded wisdom thence

Our noble plan unfold

For gathering good—pretence

Indeed for gathering gold.

But he—he cannot rise;He slowly falls apart;For all these human liesAre needles in his heart.

But he—he cannot rise;

He slowly falls apart;

For all these human lies

Are needles in his heart.

He has the truth, he thinks;He shivers in his rags;The laughing liar chinksHis bursting money-bags

He has the truth, he thinks;

He shivers in his rags;

The laughing liar chinks

His bursting money-bags

Of lie-begotten pelf,And climbs the ladder of liesTo fortune—for himself,And not for wisdom, wise.

Of lie-begotten pelf,

And climbs the ladder of lies

To fortune—for himself,

And not for wisdom, wise.

We crown the charlatan;But show to him who shapesA priceless work for manThe gratitude of apes.

We crown the charlatan;

But show to him who shapes

A priceless work for man

The gratitude of apes.

So one with toil hath writThe work which is his life.Being poor, he has no wit;His reader is his wife;

So one with toil hath writ

The work which is his life.

Being poor, he has no wit;

His reader is his wife;

They live in direst need;No fortunate patron showsThe work for men to read;He dies, and no one knows.

They live in direst need;

No fortunate patron shows

The work for men to read;

He dies, and no one knows.

A jealous rival burnsThe work he will not save;The buried poet turnsAnd mutters in his grave.

A jealous rival burns

The work he will not save;

The buried poet turns

And mutters in his grave.

IIIOld Ape, old Earth, we smile,Thou ancient Land of Lies,At all thy simple guile,Thy wisdom that’s not wise.Scum of the populace,The chatterer, cheat, and fool,Thou puttest in high placeTo scourge thee and to rule;But him who thee hath givenThe good food of the landOr water out of heavenThou bitest in the hand.

III

Old Ape, old Earth, we smile,Thou ancient Land of Lies,At all thy simple guile,Thy wisdom that’s not wise.

Old Ape, old Earth, we smile,

Thou ancient Land of Lies,

At all thy simple guile,

Thy wisdom that’s not wise.

Scum of the populace,The chatterer, cheat, and fool,Thou puttest in high placeTo scourge thee and to rule;

Scum of the populace,

The chatterer, cheat, and fool,

Thou puttest in high place

To scourge thee and to rule;

But him who thee hath givenThe good food of the landOr water out of heavenThou bitest in the hand.

But him who thee hath given

The good food of the land

Or water out of heaven

Thou bitest in the hand.

WrathsMy soul is full of fire,Wrath and tempestuous dirge;I feel but one desire,To find a sword and scourge:Since man, by right of birthAnd nature’s gift at leastA god upon the earth,Remaineth but a beast,Ill-ruling, blind and halt,And not by powers’ unknown,Or far-off Heaven’s, fault,But chiefly by his own.Lies!—let us drink them up,The sweet and bitter lies!Man takes the maddening cupAnd drinks and dreams and dies.Pure as revealing mornThe angel Truth stands there;But we, oh basely born!Dare not to look at her.Not by eternal lawsCondemn’d to eternal ruth,We suffer; but becauseWe dare not face the truth.We wreath and sanctify usTo the inferior gods;For things which vilify usWe lash ourselves with rods.We rip our veins and bleedBefore the gods of mire;For Moloch, without need,Consume our babes in fire;

WrathsMy soul is full of fire,Wrath and tempestuous dirge;I feel but one desire,To find a sword and scourge:

Wraths

My soul is full of fire,

Wrath and tempestuous dirge;

I feel but one desire,

To find a sword and scourge:

Since man, by right of birthAnd nature’s gift at leastA god upon the earth,Remaineth but a beast,

Since man, by right of birth

And nature’s gift at least

A god upon the earth,

Remaineth but a beast,

Ill-ruling, blind and halt,And not by powers’ unknown,Or far-off Heaven’s, fault,But chiefly by his own.

Ill-ruling, blind and halt,

And not by powers’ unknown,

Or far-off Heaven’s, fault,

But chiefly by his own.

Lies!—let us drink them up,The sweet and bitter lies!Man takes the maddening cupAnd drinks and dreams and dies.

Lies!—let us drink them up,

The sweet and bitter lies!

Man takes the maddening cup

And drinks and dreams and dies.

Pure as revealing mornThe angel Truth stands there;But we, oh basely born!Dare not to look at her.

Pure as revealing morn

The angel Truth stands there;

But we, oh basely born!

Dare not to look at her.

Not by eternal lawsCondemn’d to eternal ruth,We suffer; but becauseWe dare not face the truth.

Not by eternal laws

Condemn’d to eternal ruth,

We suffer; but because

We dare not face the truth.

We wreath and sanctify usTo the inferior gods;For things which vilify usWe lash ourselves with rods.

We wreath and sanctify us

To the inferior gods;

For things which vilify us

We lash ourselves with rods.

We rip our veins and bleedBefore the gods of mire;For Moloch, without need,Consume our babes in fire;

We rip our veins and bleed

Before the gods of mire;

For Moloch, without need,

Consume our babes in fire;

But the greatest God of allIn eternal silence reigns;To His high audience-hallNo human soul attains.

But the greatest God of all

In eternal silence reigns;

To His high audience-hall

No human soul attains.

Vision of NescienceIA vision of the night.I started in my bed.A finger in the nightWas placed upon my head.A ray of corruption, blueAs in encharnel’d airOn corpses comes. I knewA Death, a Woman there.Delirious, knee to knee,They drank of love like wine,He skeleton thin, and sheMost beautiful, most divine.He with his eyes half warm’dOut of their wan eclipseWith lipless kisses storm’dUpon her living lips,And like a vulture quaff’d,And raised his hideous headWith joy aloft, and laugh’dLike vultures sipping blood.The purple, fold by fold,Fell from her, and, unseen,The diadem of goldBy which I knew her queen.Nor he unknown: for atHis feet the fiery brandAnd freezing fetters thatEndow him with command.And on his head a crownOf thirsty thorns of flameThat flicker’d up and downIn words that went and cameLike God’s, ‘I am of God’;And said, ‘Duty to meIs duty unto God’;And said, ‘Come unto me,And I will give you rest.’Then as I wonder’d, lo!I saw the Woman wasteTo nothing; and he, as tho’Blood nourisht by her blood,Grow grosser in the gloomAnd leprous like the toadThat battens in the tomb.And both corrupted pined.And lo! a voice that wept,And then a faint far windOf laughter; and I slept.IIMethought the heav’ns were crusht;A myriad angels stood;A wind of thunder rushtBefore the feet of God.He spake: ‘Accursèd men,I find your earth a hell;Show me what ye have done;I bade ye order well.’They said, ‘Well we have pray’d,Lord, and for Heaven’s hopeA thousand temples made.’And His lightning lickt them up.

Vision of NescienceIA vision of the night.I started in my bed.A finger in the nightWas placed upon my head.

Vision of Nescience

A vision of the night.

I started in my bed.

A finger in the night

Was placed upon my head.

A ray of corruption, blueAs in encharnel’d airOn corpses comes. I knewA Death, a Woman there.

A ray of corruption, blue

As in encharnel’d air

On corpses comes. I knew

A Death, a Woman there.

Delirious, knee to knee,They drank of love like wine,He skeleton thin, and sheMost beautiful, most divine.

Delirious, knee to knee,

They drank of love like wine,

He skeleton thin, and she

Most beautiful, most divine.

He with his eyes half warm’dOut of their wan eclipseWith lipless kisses storm’dUpon her living lips,

He with his eyes half warm’d

Out of their wan eclipse

With lipless kisses storm’d

Upon her living lips,

And like a vulture quaff’d,And raised his hideous headWith joy aloft, and laugh’dLike vultures sipping blood.

And like a vulture quaff’d,

And raised his hideous head

With joy aloft, and laugh’d

Like vultures sipping blood.

The purple, fold by fold,Fell from her, and, unseen,The diadem of goldBy which I knew her queen.

The purple, fold by fold,

Fell from her, and, unseen,

The diadem of gold

By which I knew her queen.

Nor he unknown: for atHis feet the fiery brandAnd freezing fetters thatEndow him with command.

Nor he unknown: for at

His feet the fiery brand

And freezing fetters that

Endow him with command.

And on his head a crownOf thirsty thorns of flameThat flicker’d up and downIn words that went and came

And on his head a crown

Of thirsty thorns of flame

That flicker’d up and down

In words that went and came

Like God’s, ‘I am of God’;And said, ‘Duty to meIs duty unto God’;And said, ‘Come unto me,

Like God’s, ‘I am of God’;

And said, ‘Duty to me

Is duty unto God’;

And said, ‘Come unto me,

And I will give you rest.’Then as I wonder’d, lo!I saw the Woman wasteTo nothing; and he, as tho’

And I will give you rest.’

Then as I wonder’d, lo!

I saw the Woman waste

To nothing; and he, as tho’

Blood nourisht by her blood,Grow grosser in the gloomAnd leprous like the toadThat battens in the tomb.

Blood nourisht by her blood,

Grow grosser in the gloom

And leprous like the toad

That battens in the tomb.

And both corrupted pined.And lo! a voice that wept,And then a faint far windOf laughter; and I slept.

And both corrupted pined.

And lo! a voice that wept,

And then a faint far wind

Of laughter; and I slept.

Methought the heav’ns were crusht;A myriad angels stood;A wind of thunder rushtBefore the feet of God.

Methought the heav’ns were crusht;

A myriad angels stood;

A wind of thunder rusht

Before the feet of God.

He spake: ‘Accursèd men,I find your earth a hell;Show me what ye have done;I bade ye order well.’

He spake: ‘Accursèd men,

I find your earth a hell;

Show me what ye have done;

I bade ye order well.’

They said, ‘Well we have pray’d,Lord, and for Heaven’s hopeA thousand temples made.’And His lightning lickt them up.

They said, ‘Well we have pray’d,

Lord, and for Heaven’s hope

A thousand temples made.’

And His lightning lickt them up.

The DeepsISpirit, tho’ without a name,Great, the left hand of God;Who coolest the quick flameAnd bendest back the rodHis awful right hand bears,Till the dull worm of earthNo worse in darkness faresThan things of brighter birth,Nor in the lapse of hellAll everlasting gloom,Help us to suffer wellThese dark days of our doom.Swift Smiter of extremes,Who only lettest us live;Who feedest with bright dreamsAt midnight, and dost giveEven to the poorest wretchOf this distressful landA draught, a rag, a stretchOf soil, a loving hand,Ours too the guardian Thou;And if no other goodThou wilt bestow, endowAt least with fortitude.

The DeepsISpirit, tho’ without a name,Great, the left hand of God;Who coolest the quick flameAnd bendest back the rod

The Deeps

Spirit, tho’ without a name,

Great, the left hand of God;

Who coolest the quick flame

And bendest back the rod

His awful right hand bears,Till the dull worm of earthNo worse in darkness faresThan things of brighter birth,

His awful right hand bears,

Till the dull worm of earth

No worse in darkness fares

Than things of brighter birth,

Nor in the lapse of hellAll everlasting gloom,Help us to suffer wellThese dark days of our doom.

Nor in the lapse of hell

All everlasting gloom,

Help us to suffer well

These dark days of our doom.

Swift Smiter of extremes,Who only lettest us live;Who feedest with bright dreamsAt midnight, and dost give

Swift Smiter of extremes,

Who only lettest us live;

Who feedest with bright dreams

At midnight, and dost give

Even to the poorest wretchOf this distressful landA draught, a rag, a stretchOf soil, a loving hand,

Even to the poorest wretch

Of this distressful land

A draught, a rag, a stretch

Of soil, a loving hand,

Ours too the guardian Thou;And if no other goodThou wilt bestow, endowAt least with fortitude.

Ours too the guardian Thou;

And if no other good

Thou wilt bestow, endow

At least with fortitude.

IILong, long the barren years.A deeper darkness grows;The road-side tree appearsNo more; the shadows close.Lost, I sit down with nightAnd weave night-horrors here—Sad voices heard in flight,And warnings in the air,And convocations of thunderAbove tumultuous woods,And white stars weeping underBlack threatening of clouds.

Long, long the barren years.A deeper darkness grows;The road-side tree appearsNo more; the shadows close.

Long, long the barren years.

A deeper darkness grows;

The road-side tree appears

No more; the shadows close.

Lost, I sit down with nightAnd weave night-horrors here—Sad voices heard in flight,And warnings in the air,

Lost, I sit down with night

And weave night-horrors here—

Sad voices heard in flight,

And warnings in the air,

And convocations of thunderAbove tumultuous woods,And white stars weeping underBlack threatening of clouds.

And convocations of thunder

Above tumultuous woods,

And white stars weeping under

Black threatening of clouds.

LossIDeath too hath come with Sorrow.Sorrow enough to-dayBrings Death with her to-morrow,Unwelcome guest, to stayWith us. If I be sickI know not, care not, andThe night is very thick;My tract of toil is sand.Hated the daily toil;Hated the toil I loved;Daily the worthless soilSinks back as it is moved.III seized the hands of Grief;I would not thus be thrown;But Death came like a thiefBehind and seized my ownI held debate with Pain,And half persuaded her;Then came the utterance plainOf Death, the Answerer.‘Cryest thou so beforeThou sufferest?’ he said;‘Wait yet a little moreAnd thou shalt cry indeed.’Sorrow so darkly veiledWill take my hand and lead.O Wisdom, thou hast failed,And Sorrow, she must lead;

LossIDeath too hath come with Sorrow.Sorrow enough to-dayBrings Death with her to-morrow,Unwelcome guest, to stay

Loss

Death too hath come with Sorrow.

Sorrow enough to-day

Brings Death with her to-morrow,

Unwelcome guest, to stay

With us. If I be sickI know not, care not, andThe night is very thick;My tract of toil is sand.

With us. If I be sick

I know not, care not, and

The night is very thick;

My tract of toil is sand.

Hated the daily toil;Hated the toil I loved;Daily the worthless soilSinks back as it is moved.

Hated the daily toil;

Hated the toil I loved;

Daily the worthless soil

Sinks back as it is moved.

I seized the hands of Grief;I would not thus be thrown;But Death came like a thiefBehind and seized my own

I seized the hands of Grief;

I would not thus be thrown;

But Death came like a thief

Behind and seized my own

I held debate with Pain,And half persuaded her;Then came the utterance plainOf Death, the Answerer.

I held debate with Pain,

And half persuaded her;

Then came the utterance plain

Of Death, the Answerer.

‘Cryest thou so beforeThou sufferest?’ he said;‘Wait yet a little moreAnd thou shalt cry indeed.’

‘Cryest thou so before

Thou sufferest?’ he said;

‘Wait yet a little more

And thou shalt cry indeed.’

Sorrow so darkly veiledWill take my hand and lead.O Wisdom, thou hast failed,And Sorrow, she must lead;

Sorrow so darkly veiled

Will take my hand and lead.

O Wisdom, thou hast failed,

And Sorrow, she must lead;

And Death with her. He goesBefore and readeth plainThe painful list of thoseDear ones whom he hath slain.They fail, they fall, they sink,Torn from the treacherous sands;The deeps of death they drinkAnd reach out madden’d hands.A mist across the deepOf future and of past,The rock whereon we creep,The present we hold fast,Visible alone. Around,The rolling wreathes of fog;The unseen surges sound;Dead eyes are in the fog.We have no airy scope;We are not things that fly;We are but things that gropeFrom hand to hand and die.Not many friends, O God,Ours, and so far, so dear.So far that less manhood,Losing, can nobly bearThe loss, as, having, moreMust love. What bitter lossTo us so distant. ForNo dying word to us;No hand in ours; not evenTo see the well-known spot,The room, the chair is given;To visit the sacred plot.* * *

And Death with her. He goesBefore and readeth plainThe painful list of thoseDear ones whom he hath slain.

And Death with her. He goes

Before and readeth plain

The painful list of those

Dear ones whom he hath slain.

They fail, they fall, they sink,Torn from the treacherous sands;The deeps of death they drinkAnd reach out madden’d hands.

They fail, they fall, they sink,

Torn from the treacherous sands;

The deeps of death they drink

And reach out madden’d hands.

A mist across the deepOf future and of past,The rock whereon we creep,The present we hold fast,

A mist across the deep

Of future and of past,

The rock whereon we creep,

The present we hold fast,

Visible alone. Around,The rolling wreathes of fog;The unseen surges sound;Dead eyes are in the fog.

Visible alone. Around,

The rolling wreathes of fog;

The unseen surges sound;

Dead eyes are in the fog.

We have no airy scope;We are not things that fly;We are but things that gropeFrom hand to hand and die.

We have no airy scope;

We are not things that fly;

We are but things that grope

From hand to hand and die.

Not many friends, O God,Ours, and so far, so dear.So far that less manhood,Losing, can nobly bear

Not many friends, O God,

Ours, and so far, so dear.

So far that less manhood,

Losing, can nobly bear

The loss, as, having, moreMust love. What bitter lossTo us so distant. ForNo dying word to us;

The loss, as, having, more

Must love. What bitter loss

To us so distant. For

No dying word to us;

No hand in ours; not evenTo see the well-known spot,The room, the chair is given;To visit the sacred plot.

No hand in ours; not even

To see the well-known spot,

The room, the chair is given;

To visit the sacred plot.

* * *

IIIO Lily that to the lipsPal’st at the name of death,And with’rest in eclipse,And yieldest a sickly breath:And Rose that sheddest thy leavesAnd tremblest as they fall,—Know ye what power bereavesAnd takes the sum of all?Now slowly perishingDown to the leafless core,Ye die; no lovely thing;A heart, and nothing more.IVIf we could think that deathAs surely as we dream,To us who dwell beneathThe summit of supremeProspective—Love and Peace—Will open Heav’nly sweets;It would be wise to cease,If ceasing thus completes;Unless the further faith,Malefiant power pursueIn death those who in deathHave hoped to struggle thro’.VThe tropic night is hushtWith hateful noises—hark!The fluttering night-moth crushtBy reptiles in the dark

III

O Lily that to the lipsPal’st at the name of death,And with’rest in eclipse,And yieldest a sickly breath:

O Lily that to the lips

Pal’st at the name of death,

And with’rest in eclipse,

And yieldest a sickly breath:

And Rose that sheddest thy leavesAnd tremblest as they fall,—Know ye what power bereavesAnd takes the sum of all?

And Rose that sheddest thy leaves

And tremblest as they fall,—

Know ye what power bereaves

And takes the sum of all?

Now slowly perishingDown to the leafless core,Ye die; no lovely thing;A heart, and nothing more.

Now slowly perishing

Down to the leafless core,

Ye die; no lovely thing;

A heart, and nothing more.

If we could think that deathAs surely as we dream,To us who dwell beneathThe summit of supreme

If we could think that death

As surely as we dream,

To us who dwell beneath

The summit of supreme

Prospective—Love and Peace—Will open Heav’nly sweets;It would be wise to cease,If ceasing thus completes;

Prospective—Love and Peace—

Will open Heav’nly sweets;

It would be wise to cease,

If ceasing thus completes;

Unless the further faith,Malefiant power pursueIn death those who in deathHave hoped to struggle thro’.

Unless the further faith,

Malefiant power pursue

In death those who in death

Have hoped to struggle thro’.

The tropic night is hushtWith hateful noises—hark!The fluttering night-moth crushtBy reptiles in the dark

The tropic night is husht

With hateful noises—hark!

The fluttering night-moth crusht

By reptiles in the dark

About the bed; the soundOf tiny shrieks of pain;Of midnight murders round;Of creatures serpent-slain.A moan of thunder fillsThe stagnant air; and soonA black cloud from the hillsDevours the helpless moon.Those faces stampt in airWhen all the hateful nightWe toss, and cannot bearThe heated bed, and nightIs full of silent soundsThat walk about the bed(The whining night-fly woundsThe ear; the air is dead;The darkness madness; heatA hell): appear and gaze;Are silent; at the feetStand gazing; going gaze.

About the bed; the soundOf tiny shrieks of pain;Of midnight murders round;Of creatures serpent-slain.

About the bed; the sound

Of tiny shrieks of pain;

Of midnight murders round;

Of creatures serpent-slain.

A moan of thunder fillsThe stagnant air; and soonA black cloud from the hillsDevours the helpless moon.

A moan of thunder fills

The stagnant air; and soon

A black cloud from the hills

Devours the helpless moon.

Those faces stampt in airWhen all the hateful nightWe toss, and cannot bearThe heated bed, and night

Those faces stampt in air

When all the hateful night

We toss, and cannot bear

The heated bed, and night

Is full of silent soundsThat walk about the bed(The whining night-fly woundsThe ear; the air is dead;

Is full of silent sounds

That walk about the bed

(The whining night-fly wounds

The ear; the air is dead;

The darkness madness; heatA hell): appear and gaze;Are silent; at the feetStand gazing; going gaze.

The darkness madness; heat

A hell): appear and gaze;

Are silent; at the feet

Stand gazing; going gaze.

DeathIThe Sun said, ‘I have trodThe hateful Darkness dead,And the hand of approving GodIs placed upon my head.’And cried, ‘Where art thou, Night?Come forth, thou Worm; appear,That I may slay thee quite.’And the Night answered, ‘Here.’And the Sun said, ‘My mightIs next to His, Most High;Canst thou destroy me, Night?’And the Night answered, ‘Aye.’IIThis moonèd Desert round,Those deeps before me spread,I sought for Hope, and foundHim beautiful, but dead.In this resounding WasteI sought for Hope, and cried,‘Where art thou, Hope?’—Aghast,I found that he had died.I cried for Hope. The BriarsPointed the way he’d gone;Cold were the Heav’nly Fires,Colder the numb-lipped Moon.

DeathIThe Sun said, ‘I have trodThe hateful Darkness dead,And the hand of approving GodIs placed upon my head.’

Death

The Sun said, ‘I have trod

The hateful Darkness dead,

And the hand of approving God

Is placed upon my head.’

And cried, ‘Where art thou, Night?Come forth, thou Worm; appear,That I may slay thee quite.’And the Night answered, ‘Here.’

And cried, ‘Where art thou, Night?

Come forth, thou Worm; appear,

That I may slay thee quite.’

And the Night answered, ‘Here.’

And the Sun said, ‘My mightIs next to His, Most High;Canst thou destroy me, Night?’And the Night answered, ‘Aye.’

And the Sun said, ‘My might

Is next to His, Most High;

Canst thou destroy me, Night?’

And the Night answered, ‘Aye.’

This moonèd Desert round,Those deeps before me spread,I sought for Hope, and foundHim beautiful, but dead.

This moonèd Desert round,

Those deeps before me spread,

I sought for Hope, and found

Him beautiful, but dead.

In this resounding WasteI sought for Hope, and cried,‘Where art thou, Hope?’—Aghast,I found that he had died.

In this resounding Waste

I sought for Hope, and cried,

‘Where art thou, Hope?’—Aghast,

I found that he had died.

I cried for Hope. The BriarsPointed the way he’d gone;Cold were the Heav’nly Fires,Colder the numb-lipped Moon.

I cried for Hope. The Briars

Pointed the way he’d gone;

Cold were the Heav’nly Fires,

Colder the numb-lipped Moon.

‘Where art thou, Hope?’—‘I go,Returning,’ he had said;I found him white as snowAnd beautiful, but dead.He would return, he said.When that I heeded not,Lo, he had fallen dead.Dead; Hope is dead; is not.I tear my hands with briars,My face in earth I thrust;I curse the heav’nly fires,I drink the desert dust.A threat of thunder fillsUs. Lo, a voice! The wavesA breathless horror stills;The sand, a sea of graves.Methought the mocking MoonOpen’d her yellow lipsAnd spake. The Planets swoonIn vapoury eclipse.‘Fool, all the world is dust;Even I who shine on thee.There perish and add thy dustTo that sepulchral sea.’IIIIn exile here I trodAnd with presumptuous breathCall’d out aloud for God:The Answer came from Death.O World, thy quest is cold;O World, who answereth?Distracted thou hast call’d;The Answer came from Death.

‘Where art thou, Hope?’—‘I go,Returning,’ he had said;I found him white as snowAnd beautiful, but dead.

‘Where art thou, Hope?’—‘I go,

Returning,’ he had said;

I found him white as snow

And beautiful, but dead.

He would return, he said.When that I heeded not,Lo, he had fallen dead.Dead; Hope is dead; is not.

He would return, he said.

When that I heeded not,

Lo, he had fallen dead.

Dead; Hope is dead; is not.

I tear my hands with briars,My face in earth I thrust;I curse the heav’nly fires,I drink the desert dust.

I tear my hands with briars,

My face in earth I thrust;

I curse the heav’nly fires,

I drink the desert dust.

A threat of thunder fillsUs. Lo, a voice! The wavesA breathless horror stills;The sand, a sea of graves.

A threat of thunder fills

Us. Lo, a voice! The waves

A breathless horror stills;

The sand, a sea of graves.

Methought the mocking MoonOpen’d her yellow lipsAnd spake. The Planets swoonIn vapoury eclipse.

Methought the mocking Moon

Open’d her yellow lips

And spake. The Planets swoon

In vapoury eclipse.

‘Fool, all the world is dust;Even I who shine on thee.There perish and add thy dustTo that sepulchral sea.’

‘Fool, all the world is dust;

Even I who shine on thee.

There perish and add thy dust

To that sepulchral sea.’

III

In exile here I trodAnd with presumptuous breathCall’d out aloud for God:The Answer came from Death.

In exile here I trod

And with presumptuous breath

Call’d out aloud for God:

The Answer came from Death.

O World, thy quest is cold;O World, who answereth?Distracted thou hast call’d;The Answer came from Death.

O World, thy quest is cold;

O World, who answereth?

Distracted thou hast call’d;

The Answer came from Death.

I call’d for God and heardNo voice but that of Death:Then came the bitter word,‘Fool, God himself is Death.Great Death; not little deathThat nips the flowers unfurl’dAnd stays the infant’s breath;But Death that slays the world.And in despair I ran,And stumbled at the marge,And saw from span to spanDeath’s ocean rolling large;And only the breadth accursedOf billows barring hope,That thunder’d, ‘Death,’ and burstIn tears upon the slope.Nor in the Heavens hope.The Sun drew in and shrankHis flashes from the cope,And answer’d, ‘Death,’ and sank.I sought the sacred NightAnd solace of the Stars,For surely in their lightNo shade of Death appears.Like tears their Answer came,Dropt one by one from heaven;Their Answer was the same;No other word was given.IVBut then the Silence said,‘Resolve thy visioning mind:Is action for the deadOr seeing in the blind?

I call’d for God and heardNo voice but that of Death:Then came the bitter word,‘Fool, God himself is Death.

I call’d for God and heard

No voice but that of Death:

Then came the bitter word,

‘Fool, God himself is Death.

Great Death; not little deathThat nips the flowers unfurl’dAnd stays the infant’s breath;But Death that slays the world.

Great Death; not little death

That nips the flowers unfurl’d

And stays the infant’s breath;

But Death that slays the world.

And in despair I ran,And stumbled at the marge,And saw from span to spanDeath’s ocean rolling large;

And in despair I ran,

And stumbled at the marge,

And saw from span to span

Death’s ocean rolling large;

And only the breadth accursedOf billows barring hope,That thunder’d, ‘Death,’ and burstIn tears upon the slope.

And only the breadth accursed

Of billows barring hope,

That thunder’d, ‘Death,’ and burst

In tears upon the slope.

Nor in the Heavens hope.The Sun drew in and shrankHis flashes from the cope,And answer’d, ‘Death,’ and sank.

Nor in the Heavens hope.

The Sun drew in and shrank

His flashes from the cope,

And answer’d, ‘Death,’ and sank.

I sought the sacred NightAnd solace of the Stars,For surely in their lightNo shade of Death appears.

I sought the sacred Night

And solace of the Stars,

For surely in their light

No shade of Death appears.

Like tears their Answer came,Dropt one by one from heaven;Their Answer was the same;No other word was given.

Like tears their Answer came,

Dropt one by one from heaven;

Their Answer was the same;

No other word was given.

But then the Silence said,‘Resolve thy visioning mind:Is action for the deadOr seeing in the blind?

But then the Silence said,

‘Resolve thy visioning mind:

Is action for the dead

Or seeing in the blind?

Cry not with fruitless breath.Is it not understood,If God had utter’d DeathThen also Death is good?Abandon Wrath and Ruth.Touch not the High, nor ask.For God alone the Truth.Perform thy daily task.’

Cry not with fruitless breath.Is it not understood,If God had utter’d DeathThen also Death is good?

Cry not with fruitless breath.

Is it not understood,

If God had utter’d Death

Then also Death is good?

Abandon Wrath and Ruth.Touch not the High, nor ask.For God alone the Truth.Perform thy daily task.’

Abandon Wrath and Ruth.

Touch not the High, nor ask.

For God alone the Truth.

Perform thy daily task.’

VII

The MonsoonIWhat ails the solitude?Is this the Judgment Day?The sky is red as blood;The very rocks decayAnd crack and crumble, andThere is a flame of windWherewith the burning sandIs ever mass’d and thin’d.Even the sickly SunIs dimmèd by the dearth,And screaming dead leaves runAbout the desolate earth.Die then; we are accurst!And strike, consuming God!The very tigers thirstToo much to drink of blood;The eagle soareth not;The viper bites herself;The vulture hath forgotTo rend the dying wolf.The world is white with heat;The world is rent and riv’n;The world and heavens meet;The lost stars cry in heav’n.* * *

The MonsoonIWhat ails the solitude?Is this the Judgment Day?The sky is red as blood;The very rocks decay

The Monsoon

What ails the solitude?

Is this the Judgment Day?

The sky is red as blood;

The very rocks decay

And crack and crumble, andThere is a flame of windWherewith the burning sandIs ever mass’d and thin’d.

And crack and crumble, and

There is a flame of wind

Wherewith the burning sand

Is ever mass’d and thin’d.

Even the sickly SunIs dimmèd by the dearth,And screaming dead leaves runAbout the desolate earth.

Even the sickly Sun

Is dimmèd by the dearth,

And screaming dead leaves run

About the desolate earth.

Die then; we are accurst!And strike, consuming God!The very tigers thirstToo much to drink of blood;

Die then; we are accurst!

And strike, consuming God!

The very tigers thirst

Too much to drink of blood;

The eagle soareth not;The viper bites herself;The vulture hath forgotTo rend the dying wolf.

The eagle soareth not;

The viper bites herself;

The vulture hath forgot

To rend the dying wolf.

The world is white with heat;The world is rent and riv’n;The world and heavens meet;The lost stars cry in heav’n.

The world is white with heat;

The world is rent and riv’n;

The world and heavens meet;

The lost stars cry in heav’n.

* * *

IIArt thou an Angel—speak,Stupendous Cloud that comest?What wrath on whom to wreak?Redeemest thou, or doomest?Thine eyes are of the dead;A flame within thy breastThy giant wings outspread,Like Death’s, upon the westThy lifted locks of hairAre flames of fluttering fire;Thy countenance, of DespairMade mad with inner ire.IIIWho cries! The night is blackAs death and not as night;The world is fallen backTo nothing; sound and lightAnd moon and stars and skies,Thunder and lightning—allGone, gone! Not even criesThe cricket in the hall,The dog without. At lastThe end of all the hours.Was that a Spirit pass’dBetween the slamming doors?We slept not yet we wake!Was it a voice that cried,‘Awake, ye sleepless; wake,Ye deathless who have died’?No voice. No light, no sound.It was the fancy thatAt midnight makes reboundOf thoughts we labour at

Art thou an Angel—speak,Stupendous Cloud that comest?What wrath on whom to wreak?Redeemest thou, or doomest?

Art thou an Angel—speak,

Stupendous Cloud that comest?

What wrath on whom to wreak?

Redeemest thou, or doomest?

Thine eyes are of the dead;A flame within thy breastThy giant wings outspread,Like Death’s, upon the west

Thine eyes are of the dead;

A flame within thy breast

Thy giant wings outspread,

Like Death’s, upon the west

Thy lifted locks of hairAre flames of fluttering fire;Thy countenance, of DespairMade mad with inner ire.

Thy lifted locks of hair

Are flames of fluttering fire;

Thy countenance, of Despair

Made mad with inner ire.

III

Who cries! The night is blackAs death and not as night;The world is fallen backTo nothing; sound and light

Who cries! The night is black

As death and not as night;

The world is fallen back

To nothing; sound and light

And moon and stars and skies,Thunder and lightning—allGone, gone! Not even criesThe cricket in the hall,

And moon and stars and skies,

Thunder and lightning—all

Gone, gone! Not even cries

The cricket in the hall,

The dog without. At lastThe end of all the hours.Was that a Spirit pass’dBetween the slamming doors?

The dog without. At last

The end of all the hours.

Was that a Spirit pass’d

Between the slamming doors?

We slept not yet we wake!Was it a voice that cried,‘Awake, ye sleepless; wake,Ye deathless who have died’?

We slept not yet we wake!

Was it a voice that cried,

‘Awake, ye sleepless; wake,

Ye deathless who have died’?

No voice. No light, no sound.It was the fancy thatAt midnight makes reboundOf thoughts we labour at

No voice. No light, no sound.

It was the fancy that

At midnight makes rebound

Of thoughts we labour at

At mid-day. Let us sleep.The night is very black,The heat a madness—sleepBefore the day comes back.Who cries!—The voice again!It is the storm that breaks!The tempest and the rain!The quivering crash that shakes!The thunder and the flash,The brand that rips and roars,The winds of God that dashAnd split a thousand doors!The chariots of GodThat gallop on the plainAnd shake the solid sod!Awake!—The rain, the rain!Thunder and burst, O Sky;Thunder and boil, O Deep;Let the thick thunder cry;Let the live lightning leap!Smite white light like the swordOf Heav’n from heav’n’s height;Consume the thing abhor’dAnd quell the dreadful night!Smite white light like the brandOf God from heav’n to earth;And purge the desolate landOf this destroying dearth!IVO Wilderness of Death,O Desert rent and riv’n,Where art thou?—for the breathOf heav’n hath made thee Heav’n.

At mid-day. Let us sleep.The night is very black,The heat a madness—sleepBefore the day comes back.

At mid-day. Let us sleep.

The night is very black,

The heat a madness—sleep

Before the day comes back.

Who cries!—The voice again!It is the storm that breaks!The tempest and the rain!The quivering crash that shakes!

Who cries!—The voice again!

It is the storm that breaks!

The tempest and the rain!

The quivering crash that shakes!

The thunder and the flash,The brand that rips and roars,The winds of God that dashAnd split a thousand doors!

The thunder and the flash,

The brand that rips and roars,

The winds of God that dash

And split a thousand doors!

The chariots of GodThat gallop on the plainAnd shake the solid sod!Awake!—The rain, the rain!

The chariots of God

That gallop on the plain

And shake the solid sod!

Awake!—The rain, the rain!

Thunder and burst, O Sky;Thunder and boil, O Deep;Let the thick thunder cry;Let the live lightning leap!

Thunder and burst, O Sky;

Thunder and boil, O Deep;

Let the thick thunder cry;

Let the live lightning leap!

Smite white light like the swordOf Heav’n from heav’n’s height;Consume the thing abhor’dAnd quell the dreadful night!

Smite white light like the sword

Of Heav’n from heav’n’s height;

Consume the thing abhor’d

And quell the dreadful night!

Smite white light like the brandOf God from heav’n to earth;And purge the desolate landOf this destroying dearth!

Smite white light like the brand

Of God from heav’n to earth;

And purge the desolate land

Of this destroying dearth!

O Wilderness of Death,O Desert rent and riv’n,Where art thou?—for the breathOf heav’n hath made thee Heav’n.

O Wilderness of Death,

O Desert rent and riv’n,

Where art thou?—for the breath

Of heav’n hath made thee Heav’n.

I know not now these ways;The rocky rifts are gone,Deep-verdured like the braesOf blest Avilion.Here where there were no flowersThe heav’nly waters flow,And thro’ a thousand bowersInnum’rable blossoms blow.* * *

I know not now these ways;The rocky rifts are gone,Deep-verdured like the braesOf blest Avilion.

I know not now these ways;

The rocky rifts are gone,

Deep-verdured like the braes

Of blest Avilion.

Here where there were no flowersThe heav’nly waters flow,And thro’ a thousand bowersInnum’rable blossoms blow.

Here where there were no flowers

The heav’nly waters flow,

And thro’ a thousand bowers

Innum’rable blossoms blow.

* * *

ReplyIThis day relenting GodHath placed within my handA wondrous thing; and GodBe praised. At His command,Seeking His secret deedsWith tears and toiling breath,I find thy cunning seeds,O million-murdering Death.I know this little thingA myriad men will save.O Death, where is thy sting?Thy victory, O Grave?August 21, 1897.IIBefore Thy feet I fall,Lord, who made high my fate;For in the mighty smallThou showedst the mighty great.Henceforth I will resoundBut praises unto Thee;Tho’ I was beat and bound,Thou gavest me victory.Tho’ in these depths of nightDeep-dungeon’d I was hurl’d,Thou sentest me a lightWherewith to mend the world.O Exile, while thine eyesWere weary with the nightThou weepedst; now ariseAnd bless the Lord of Light.Hereafter let thy lyreBe bondsman to His name;His thunder and His fireWill fill thy lips with flame.He is the Lord of Light;He is the Thing That Is;He sends the seeing sight;And the right mind is His.IIIThe cagèd bird awakeAll night laments his doom,And hears the dim dawn breakAbout the darken’d room;But in the day he sips,Contented in his place,His food from human lips,And learns the human face.So tho’ his home remainDark, and his fields untrod,The exile has this gain,To have found the face of God.Confounded at the close,Confounded standing whereNo further pathway shows,We find an angel thereTo guide us. God is good;The seeing sight is dim;He gives us solitudeThat we may be with Him.By that we have we lose;By what we have not, get;And where we cannot chooseThe crown of life is set.

ReplyIThis day relenting GodHath placed within my handA wondrous thing; and GodBe praised. At His command,

This day relenting God

Hath placed within my hand

A wondrous thing; and God

Be praised. At His command,

Seeking His secret deedsWith tears and toiling breath,I find thy cunning seeds,O million-murdering Death.

Seeking His secret deeds

With tears and toiling breath,

I find thy cunning seeds,

O million-murdering Death.

I know this little thingA myriad men will save.O Death, where is thy sting?Thy victory, O Grave?

I know this little thing

A myriad men will save.

O Death, where is thy sting?

Thy victory, O Grave?

August 21, 1897.

Before Thy feet I fall,Lord, who made high my fate;For in the mighty smallThou showedst the mighty great.

Before Thy feet I fall,

Lord, who made high my fate;

For in the mighty small

Thou showedst the mighty great.

Henceforth I will resoundBut praises unto Thee;Tho’ I was beat and bound,Thou gavest me victory.

Henceforth I will resound

But praises unto Thee;

Tho’ I was beat and bound,

Thou gavest me victory.

Tho’ in these depths of nightDeep-dungeon’d I was hurl’d,Thou sentest me a lightWherewith to mend the world.

Tho’ in these depths of night

Deep-dungeon’d I was hurl’d,

Thou sentest me a light

Wherewith to mend the world.

O Exile, while thine eyesWere weary with the nightThou weepedst; now ariseAnd bless the Lord of Light.

O Exile, while thine eyes

Were weary with the night

Thou weepedst; now arise

And bless the Lord of Light.

Hereafter let thy lyreBe bondsman to His name;His thunder and His fireWill fill thy lips with flame.

Hereafter let thy lyre

Be bondsman to His name;

His thunder and His fire

Will fill thy lips with flame.

He is the Lord of Light;He is the Thing That Is;He sends the seeing sight;And the right mind is His.

He is the Lord of Light;

He is the Thing That Is;

He sends the seeing sight;

And the right mind is His.

III

The cagèd bird awakeAll night laments his doom,And hears the dim dawn breakAbout the darken’d room;

The cagèd bird awake

All night laments his doom,

And hears the dim dawn break

About the darken’d room;

But in the day he sips,Contented in his place,His food from human lips,And learns the human face.

But in the day he sips,

Contented in his place,

His food from human lips,

And learns the human face.

So tho’ his home remainDark, and his fields untrod,The exile has this gain,To have found the face of God.

So tho’ his home remain

Dark, and his fields untrod,

The exile has this gain,

To have found the face of God.

Confounded at the close,Confounded standing whereNo further pathway shows,We find an angel there

Confounded at the close,

Confounded standing where

No further pathway shows,

We find an angel there

To guide us. God is good;The seeing sight is dim;He gives us solitudeThat we may be with Him.

To guide us. God is good;

The seeing sight is dim;

He gives us solitude

That we may be with Him.

By that we have we lose;By what we have not, get;And where we cannot chooseThe crown of life is set.

By that we have we lose;

By what we have not, get;

And where we cannot choose

The crown of life is set.

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