John G. Neihardt
I do not pray for peace nor ease,Nor truce from sorrow:No suppliant on servile kneesBegs here against to-morrow!Lean flame against lean flame we flash,O Fates that meet me fair;Blue steel against blue steel we clash—Lay on, and I shall dare!But Thou of deeps the awful Deep,Thou Breather in the clay,Grant this my only prayer—Oh, keepMy soul from turning gray!For until now, whatever wroughtAgainst my sweet desires,My days were smitten harps strung taut,My nights were slumberous lyres.And howsoe’er the hard blow rangUpon my battered shield,Some lark-like, soaring spirit sangAbove my battle-field.And through my soul of stormy nightThe zigzag blue flame ran.I asked no odds—I fought my fight—Events against a man.But now—at last—the gray mist chokesAnd numbs me. Leave me pain!Oh, let me feel the biting strokes,That I may fight again!
I do not pray for peace nor ease,Nor truce from sorrow:No suppliant on servile kneesBegs here against to-morrow!Lean flame against lean flame we flash,O Fates that meet me fair;Blue steel against blue steel we clash—Lay on, and I shall dare!But Thou of deeps the awful Deep,Thou Breather in the clay,Grant this my only prayer—Oh, keepMy soul from turning gray!For until now, whatever wroughtAgainst my sweet desires,My days were smitten harps strung taut,My nights were slumberous lyres.And howsoe’er the hard blow rangUpon my battered shield,Some lark-like, soaring spirit sangAbove my battle-field.And through my soul of stormy nightThe zigzag blue flame ran.I asked no odds—I fought my fight—Events against a man.But now—at last—the gray mist chokesAnd numbs me. Leave me pain!Oh, let me feel the biting strokes,That I may fight again!
I do not pray for peace nor ease,Nor truce from sorrow:No suppliant on servile kneesBegs here against to-morrow!
I do not pray for peace nor ease,
Nor truce from sorrow:
No suppliant on servile knees
Begs here against to-morrow!
Lean flame against lean flame we flash,O Fates that meet me fair;Blue steel against blue steel we clash—Lay on, and I shall dare!
Lean flame against lean flame we flash,
O Fates that meet me fair;
Blue steel against blue steel we clash—
Lay on, and I shall dare!
But Thou of deeps the awful Deep,Thou Breather in the clay,Grant this my only prayer—Oh, keepMy soul from turning gray!
But Thou of deeps the awful Deep,
Thou Breather in the clay,
Grant this my only prayer—Oh, keep
My soul from turning gray!
For until now, whatever wroughtAgainst my sweet desires,My days were smitten harps strung taut,My nights were slumberous lyres.
For until now, whatever wrought
Against my sweet desires,
My days were smitten harps strung taut,
My nights were slumberous lyres.
And howsoe’er the hard blow rangUpon my battered shield,Some lark-like, soaring spirit sangAbove my battle-field.
And howsoe’er the hard blow rang
Upon my battered shield,
Some lark-like, soaring spirit sang
Above my battle-field.
And through my soul of stormy nightThe zigzag blue flame ran.I asked no odds—I fought my fight—Events against a man.
And through my soul of stormy night
The zigzag blue flame ran.
I asked no odds—I fought my fight—
Events against a man.
But now—at last—the gray mist chokesAnd numbs me. Leave me pain!Oh, let me feel the biting strokes,That I may fight again!
But now—at last—the gray mist chokes
And numbs me. Leave me pain!
Oh, let me feel the biting strokes,
That I may fight again!
Oh, seek me not within a tomb—Thou shalt not find me in the clay!I pierce a little wall of gloomTo mingle with the day!I brothered with the things that pass,Poor giddy joy and puckered grief;I go to brother with the grassAnd with the sunning leaf.Not death can sheathe me in a shroud;A joy-sword whetted keen with pain,I join the armies of the cloud,The lightning and the rain.Oh, subtle in the sap athrill,Athletic in the glad uplift,A portion of the cosmic will,I pierce the planet-drift.My God and I shall interknitAs rain and ocean, breath and air;And oh, the luring thought of itIs prayer!
Oh, seek me not within a tomb—Thou shalt not find me in the clay!I pierce a little wall of gloomTo mingle with the day!I brothered with the things that pass,Poor giddy joy and puckered grief;I go to brother with the grassAnd with the sunning leaf.Not death can sheathe me in a shroud;A joy-sword whetted keen with pain,I join the armies of the cloud,The lightning and the rain.Oh, subtle in the sap athrill,Athletic in the glad uplift,A portion of the cosmic will,I pierce the planet-drift.My God and I shall interknitAs rain and ocean, breath and air;And oh, the luring thought of itIs prayer!
Oh, seek me not within a tomb—Thou shalt not find me in the clay!I pierce a little wall of gloomTo mingle with the day!
Oh, seek me not within a tomb—
Thou shalt not find me in the clay!
I pierce a little wall of gloom
To mingle with the day!
I brothered with the things that pass,Poor giddy joy and puckered grief;I go to brother with the grassAnd with the sunning leaf.
I brothered with the things that pass,
Poor giddy joy and puckered grief;
I go to brother with the grass
And with the sunning leaf.
Not death can sheathe me in a shroud;A joy-sword whetted keen with pain,I join the armies of the cloud,The lightning and the rain.
Not death can sheathe me in a shroud;
A joy-sword whetted keen with pain,
I join the armies of the cloud,
The lightning and the rain.
Oh, subtle in the sap athrill,Athletic in the glad uplift,A portion of the cosmic will,I pierce the planet-drift.
Oh, subtle in the sap athrill,
Athletic in the glad uplift,
A portion of the cosmic will,
I pierce the planet-drift.
My God and I shall interknitAs rain and ocean, breath and air;And oh, the luring thought of itIs prayer!
My God and I shall interknit
As rain and ocean, breath and air;
And oh, the luring thought of it
Is prayer!