American Poetry, 1922 - LightNovelsOnl.com
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New scintillating rays extend Through endless singing s.p.a.ce and rise Into an ecstasy that cries: "Ascend, Leviathan, ascend!"_
G.o.d now commands the multi-colored bands Of angels to intrude and slay the beast That His good sons may have a feast of food.
But as they come, Leviathan sneezes twice ...
And, numb with sudden pangs, each arm hangs slack.
Black terror seizes them; blood freezes into ice And every angel flees from the attack!
G.o.d, with a look that spells eternal law, Compels them back.
But, though they fight and smite him tail and jaw, Nothing avails; upon his scales their swords Break like frayed cords or, like a blade of straw, Bend towards the hilt and wilt like faded gra.s.s.
Defeat and fresh retreat.... But once again G.o.d's murmurs pa.s.s among them and they ma.s.s With firmer steps upon the crowded plain.
Vast clouds of spears and stones rise from the ground; But every dart flies past and rocks rebound To the disheartened angels falling around.
A pause.
The angel host withdraws With empty boasts throughout its sullen files.
Suddenly G.o.d smiles....
On the walls of heaven a tumble of light is caught.
Low thunder rumbles like an afterthought; And G.o.d's slow laughter calls: "Behemot!"
_Behemot, sweating blood, Uses for his daily food All the fodder, flesh and juice That twelve tall mountains can produce._
_Jordan, flooded to the brim, Is a single gulp to him; Two great streams from Paradise Cool his lips and scarce suffice._
_When he s.h.i.+fts from side to side Earthquakes gape and open wide;_ _When a nightmare makes him snore, All the dead volcanoes roar._
_In the s.p.a.ce between each toe, Kingdoms rise and saviours go; Epochs fall and causes die In the lifting of his eye._
_Wars and justice, love and death, These are but his wasted breath; Chews a planet for his cud-- Behemot sweating blood._
Roused from his unconcern, Behemot burns with anger.
Dripping sleep and languor from his heavy haunches, He turns from deep disdain and launches Himself upon the thickening air, And, with weird cries of sickening despair, Flies at Leviathan.
None can surmise the struggle that ensues-- The eyes lose sight of it and words refuse To tell the story in its gory might.
Night pa.s.ses after night, And still the fight continues, still the sparks Fly from the iron sinews, ... till the marks Of fire and belching thunder fill the dark And, almost torn asunder, one falls stark, Hammering upon the other!...
What clamor now is born, what cras.h.i.+ngs rise!
Hot lightnings lash the skies and frightening cries Clash with the hymns of saints and seraphim.
The b.l.o.o.d.y limbs thrash through a ruddy dusk, Till one great tusk of Behemot has gored Leviathan, restored to his full strength, Who, dealing fiercer blows in those last throes, Closes on reeling Behemot at length-- Piercing him with steel-pointed claws, Straight through the jaws to his disjointed head.
And both lie dead.
_Then_ come the angels!
With hoists and levers, joists and poles, With knives and cleavers, ropes and saws, Down the long slopes to the gaping maws, The angels hasten; hacking and carving, So nought will be lacking for the starving Chosen of G.o.d, who in frozen wonderment Realize now what the terrible thunder meant.
How their mouths water while they are looking At miles of slaughter and sniffing the cooking!
Whiffs of delectable fragrance swim by; Spice-laden vagrants that float and entice, Tickling the throat and br.i.m.m.i.n.g the eye.
Ah! what rejoicing and crackling and roasting!
Ah! How the boys sing as, cackling and boasting, The angels' old wives and their nervous a.s.sistants Run in to serve us....
And while we are toasting The Fairest of All, they call from the distance The rare ones of Time, they share our enjoyment; Their only employment to bear jars of wine And s.h.i.+ne like the stars in a circle of glory.
Here sways Rebekah accompanied by Zilpah; Miriam plays to the singing of Bilhah; Hagar has tales for us, Judith her story; Esther exhales bright romances and musk.
There, in the dusky light, Salome dances.
Sara and Rachel and Leah and Ruth, Fairer than ever and all in their youth, Come at our call and go by our leave.
And, from her bower of beauty, walks Eve While, with the voice of a flower, she sings Of Eden, young earth and the birth of all things....
Peace without end.
Peace will descend on us, discord will cease; And we, now so wretched, will lie stretched out Free of old doubt, on our cus.h.i.+ons of ease.
And, like a gold canopy over our bed, The skin of Leviathan, tail-tip to head, Soon will be spread till it covers the skies.
Light will still rise from it; millions of bright Facets of brilliance, shaming the white Gla.s.s of the moon, inflaming the night.
So Time shall pa.s.s and rest and pa.s.s again, Burn with an endless zest and then return, Walk at our side and tide us to new joys; G.o.d's voice to guide us, beauty as our staff.
Thus shall Life be when Death has disappeared....
_Jeered at? Well, let them laugh._
JOHN GOULD FLETCHER
A REBEL
Tie a bandage over his eyes, And at his feet Let rifles drearily patter Their death-prayers of defeat.
Throw a blanket over his body, It need no longer stir; Truth will but stand the stronger For all who died for her.
Now he has broken through To his own secret place; Which, if we dared to do, We would have no more power left to look on that dead face.
THE ROCK
This rock, too, was a word; A word of flame and force when that which hurled The stars into their places in the night First stirred.
And, in the summer's heat, Lay not your hand on it, for while the iron hours beat Gray anvils in the sky, it glows again With unfulfilled desire.
Touch it not; let it stand Ragged, forlorn, still looking at the land; The dry blue chaos of mountains in the distance, The slender blades of gra.s.s it shelters are Its own dark thoughts of what is near and far.
Your thoughts are yours, too; naked let them stand.
BLUE WATER
Sea-violins are playing on the sands; Curved bows of blue and white are flying over the pebbles, See them attack the chords--dark ba.s.ses, glinting trebles.
Dimly and faint they croon, blue violins.
"Suffer without regret," they seem to cry, "Though dark your suffering is, it may be music, Waves of blue heat that wash midsummer sky; Sea-violins that play along the sands."
