Georgian Poetry 1911-1912 Part 8

'And lies bore lies And l.u.s.t bore l.u.s.t, And the world was heavy with flowerless rods, And pride outran The strength of a man Who had set himself in the place of G.o.ds'.

IV

Soon was I then to gather bitter shame Of spirit, I had been most wildly proud-- Yet in my pride had been Some little courage, formless as a cloud, Unpiloted save by the vagrant wind, But still an earnest of the bonds that tame The legionary hates, of sacred loves that lean From the high soul of man towards his kind.

And all my grief Had been for those I watched go to and fro In uncompa.s.sioned woe Along that little span my unbelief Had fas.h.i.+oned in my vision as all life.

Now even this so little virtue waned, For I became caught up into the strife That I had pitied, and my soul was stained At last by that most venomous despair, Self-pity.

I no longer was aware Of any will to heal the world's unrest, I suffered as it suffered, and I grew Troubled in all my daily trafficking, Not with the large heroic trouble known By proud adventurous men who would atone With their own pa.s.sionate pity for the sting And anguish of a world of peril and snares; It was the trouble of a soul in thrall To mean despairs, Driven about a waste where neither fall Of words from lips of love, nor consolation Of grave eyes comforting, nor ministration Of hand or heart could pierce the deadly wall Of self--of self,--I was a living shame-- A broken purpose. I had stood apart With pride rebellious and defiant heart, And now my pride had perished in the flame.

I cried for succour as a little child Might supplicate whose days are undefiled-- For tutored pride and innocence are one.

'To the gloom has won A gleam of the sun And into the barren desolate ways A scent is blown As of meadows mown By cooling rivers in clover days'.

V

I turned me from that place in humble wise, And fingers soft were laid upon mine eyes, And I beheld the fruitful earth, with store Of odorous treasure, full and golden grain, Ripe orchard bounty, slender stalks that bore Their flowered beauty with a meek content, The prosperous leaves that loved the sun and rain, Shy creatures unreproved that came and went In garrulous joy among the fostering green.

And, over all, the changes of the day And ordered year their mutable glory laid-- Expectant winter soberly arrayed, The prudent diligent spring whose eyes have seen The beauty of the roses uncreate, Imperial June, magnificent, elate Beholding all the ripening loves that stray Among her blossoms, and the golden time Of the full ear and bounty of the boughs,-- And the great hills and solemn chanting seas And prodigal meadows, answering to the chime Of G.o.d's good year, and bearing on their brows The glory of processional mysteries From dawn to dawn, the woven shadow and s.h.i.+ne Of the high moon, the twilight secrecies, And the inscrutable wonder of the stars Flung out along the reaches of the night.

'And, the ancient might Of the binding bars Waned, as I woke to a new desire For the choric song Of exultant, strong Earth-pa.s.sionate men with souls of fire'.

VI

'Twas given me to hear. As I beheld-- With a new wisdom, tranquil, asking not For mystic revelation--this glory long forgot, This re-discovered triumph of the earth In high creative will and beauty's pride Established beyond the a.s.saulting years, It came to me, a music that compelled Surrender of all tributary fears, Full-throated, fierce and rhythmic with the wide Beat of the pilgrim winds and labouring seas, Sent up from all the harbouring ways of earth Wherein the travelling feet of men have trod, Mounting the firmamental silences And challenging the golden gates of G.o.d.

'We bear the burden of the years Clean-limbed, clear-hearted, open-browed; Albeit sacramental tears Have dimmed our eyes, we know the proud Content of men who sweep unbowed Before the legionary fears; In sorrow we have grown to be The masters of adversity.

Long ere from immanent silence leapt Obedient hands and fas.h.i.+oning will, The giant G.o.d within us slept, And dreamt of seasons to fulfil The shaping of our souls that still Expectant earthward vigil kept; Our wisdom grew from secrets drawn From that far-off dim-memoried dawn.

Wise of the storied ages we, Of perils dared and crosses borne, Of heroes bound by no decree Of laws defiled or faiths outworn, Of poets who have held in scorn All mean and tyrannous things that be; We prophesy with lips that sped The songs of the prophetic dead.

Wise of the brief beloved span Of this our glad earth-travelling, Of beauty's bloom and ordered plan, Of love and love's compa.s.sioning, Of all the dear delights that spring From man's communion with man; We cherish every hour that strays Adown the cataract of the days.'

'We see the dear untroubled skies, We see the glory of the rose, And, laugh, nor grieve that clouds will rise And wax with every wind that blows, Nor that the blossoming time will close, For beauty seen of humble eyes Immortal habitation has Though beauty's form may pale and pa.s.s.

Wise of the great unshapen age, To which we move with measured tread All girt with pa.s.sionate truth to wage High battle for the word unsaid, The song unsung, the cause unled, The freedom that no hope can gauge; Strong-armed, sure-footed, iron-willed We sift and weave, we break and build.

Into one hour we gather all The years gone down, the years unwrought, Upon our ears brave measures fall Across uncharted s.p.a.ces brought, Upon our lips the words are caught Wherewith the dead the unborn call; From love to love, from height to height We press and none may curb our might.'

VII

O blessed voices, O compa.s.sionate hands, Calling and healing, O great-hearted brothers!

I come to you. Ring out across the lands Your benediction, and I too will sing With you, and haply kindle in another's Dark desolate hour the flame you stirred in me.

O bountiful earth, in adoration meet I bow to you; O glory of years to be, I too will labour to your fas.h.i.+oning.

Go down, go down, unweariable feet, Together we will march towards the ways Wherein the marshalled hosts of morning wait In sleepless watch, with banners wide unfurled Across the skies in ceremonial state, To greet the men who lived triumphant days, And stormed the secret beauty of the world.

JAMES ELROY FLECKER

JOSEPH AND MARY

Joseph:

Mary, art thou the little maid Who plucked me flowers in Spring?

I know thee not; I feel afraid: Thou'rt strange this evening.

A sweet and rustic girl I won What time the woods were green; No woman with deep eyes that shone, And the pale brows of a Queen.

Mary: (inattentive to his words)

A stranger came with feet of flame And told me this strange thing,-- For all I was a village maid My son should be a King.

Joseph:

A King, dear wife? Who ever knew Of Kings in stables born!

Mary:

Do you hear, in the dark and starlit blue The clarion and the horn?

Joseph:

Mary, alas, lest grief and joy Have sent thy wits astray; But let me look on this my boy, And take the wraps away.

Mary:

Behold the lad.

Joseph:

I dare not gaze: Light streams from every limb.