dreams & dust-第8节
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Sink to silence the psalms and the paeans
The shibboleths shift； and the faiths；
And the temples that challenged the aeons
Are tenanted only by wraiths；
Swoon to silence the cymbals and psalters；
The worships grow senseless and strange；
And the mockers ask； 〃Where be thy altars？〃
Crying； 〃Nothing is changelessbut Change！〃
Yes； nothing seems changeless； but Change。
And yet； through the creed…wrecking years；
One story for ever appears；
The tale of a City Supernal
The whisper of Something eternal
A passion； a hope； and a vision
That peoples the silence with Powers；
A fable of meadows Elysian
Where Time enters not with his Hours；
Manifold are the tale's variations；
Race and clime ever tinting the dreams；
Yet its essence； through endless mutations；
Immutable gleams。
Deathless； though godheads be dying；
Surviving the creeds that expire；
Illogical； reason…defying；
Lives that passionate； primal desire；
Insistent； persistent； forever
Man cries to the silences； Never
Shall Death reign the lord of the soul；
Shall the dust be the ultimate goal
I will storm the black bastions of Night！
I will tread where my vision has trod；
I will set in the darkness a light；
In the vastness； a god！〃
As the forehead of Man grows broader； so do
his creeds；
And his gods they are shaped in his image； and
mirror his needs；
And he clothes them with thunders and beauty；
he clothes them with music and fire；
Seeing not； as he bows by their altars； that he
worships his own desire；
And mixed with his trust there is terror； and
mixed with his madness is ruth；
And every man grovels in error； yet every man
glimpses a truth。
For all of the creeds are false； and all of the creeds
are true；
And low at the shrines where my brothers bow；
there will I bow； too；
For no form of a god； and no fashion
Man has made in his desperate passion
But is worthy some worship of mine；
Not too hot with a gross belief；
Nor yet too cold with pride；
I will bow me down where my brothers bow；
Humblebut open…eyed！
UNREST
A FIERCE unrest seethes at the core
Of all existing things：
It was the eager wish to soar
That gave the gods their wings。
From what flat wastes of cosmic slime；
And stung by what quick fire；
Sunward the restless races climb！
Men risen out of mire！
There throbs through all the worlds that are
This heart…beat hot and strong；
And shaken systems； star by star；
Awake and glow in song。
But for the urge of this unrest
These joyous spheres were mute；
But for the rebel in his breast
Had man remained a brute。
When baffled lips demanded speech；
Speech trembled into birth
（One day the lyric word shall reach
From earth to laughing earth）
When man's dim eyes demanded light
The light he sought was born
His wish； a Titan； scaled the height
And flung him back the morn！
From deed to dream； from dream to deed；
From daring hope to hope；
The restless wish； the instant need；
Still lashed him up the slope！
。 。 。 。 。 。
I sing no governed firmament；
Cold； ordered； regular
I sing the stinging discontent
That leaps from star to star！
THE PILTDOWN SKULL
WHAT was his life； back yonder
In the dusk where time began；
This beast uncouth with the jaw of an ape
And the eye and brain of a man？
Work； and the wooing of woman；
Fight； and the lust of fight；
Play； and the blind beginnings
Of an Art that groped for light？
In the wonder of redder mornings；
By the beauty of brighter seas；
Did he stand； the world's first thinker；
Scorning his clan's decrees？
Seeking； with baffled eyes；
In the dumb； inscrutable skies；
A name for the greater glory
That only the dreamer sees？
One day； when the afterglows；
Like quick and sentient things；
With a rush of their vast； wild wings；
Rose out of the shaken ocean
As great birds rise from the sod；
Did the shock of their sudden splendor
Stir him and startle and thrill him；
Grip him and shake him and fill him
With a sense as of heights untrod？
Did he tremble with hope and vision；
And grasp at a hint of God？
London stands where the mammoth
Caked shag flanks with slime
And what are our lives that inherit
The treasures of all time？
Work； and the wooing of woman；
Fight； and the lust of fight；
A little play （and too much toil！）
With an Art that gropes for light；
And now and then a dreamer；
Rapt； from his lonely sod
Looks up and is thrilled and startled
With a fleeting sense of God！
THE SEEKER
THE creeds he wrought of dream and thought
Fall from him at the touch of life；
His old gods fail him in the strife
Withdrawn； the heavens he sought！
Vanished； the miracles that led；
The cloud at noon； the flame at night；
The vision that he wing'd and sped
Falls backward； baffled； from the height；
Yet in the wreck of these he stands
Upheld by something grim and strong；
Some stubborn instinct lifts a song
And nerves him； heart and hands：
He does not dare to call it hope；
It is not aught that seeks reward
Nor faith； that up some sunward slope
Runs aureoled to meet its lord；
It touches something elder far
Than faith or creed or thought in man；
It was ere yet these lived and ran
Like light from star to star；
It touches that stark； primal need
That from unpeopled voids and vast
Fashioned the first crude； childish creed；
And still shall fashion； till the last！
For one word is the tale of men：
They fling their icons to the sod；
And having trampled down a god
They seek a god again！
Stripped of his creeds inherited；
Bereft of all his sires held true；
Amid the wreck of visions dead
He thrills at touch of visions new。 。 。 。
He wings another Dream for flight。 。 。 。
He seeks beyond the outmost dawn
A god he set there 。 。 。 and； anon；
Drags that god from the height！
。 。 。 。 。 。
But aye from ruined faiths and old
That droop and die； fall bruised seeds；
And when new flowers and faiths unfold
They're lovelier flowers； they're kindlier creeds。
THE AWAKENING
THE steam； the reek； the fume； of prayer
Blown outward for a million years；
Becomes a mist between the spheres；
And waking Sentience struggles there。
Prayer still creates the boon we pray；
And gods we've hoped for； from those hopes
Will gain sufficient form one day
And in full godhood storm the slopes
Where ancient Chaos； stark and gray；
Already trembles for his sway。
When that the restless worlds would fly
Their wish created rapid wings；
But not till aeons had passed by
With dower of many idler things；
And when dumb flesh demanded speech
Speech struggled to the lips at last；
Now the unpeopled Void； and vast；
Clean to that uttermost blank beach
Whereto the boldest thought may reach
That voyages from the vaguest past
（Dim realm and ultimate of space）
Is vexed and troubled； stirs and shakes；
In prescience of a god that wakes；
Born of man's wish to see God's face！
The endless； groping； dumb desires；
The climbing incense thick and sweet；
The lovely purpose that aspires；
The wraiths of vapor wing'd and fleet
That rise and run with eager feet
Forth from a myriad altar fires：
All these become a mist that fills
The vales and chasms nebular；
A shaping Soul that moves and thrills
The wastes between red star and star！
A SONG OF MEN
OUT of the soil and the slime；
Reeking； they climb；
Out of the muck and the mire；
Rank； they aspire；
Filthy with murder and mud；
Black with shed blood；
Lust and passion and clay
Dying； they slay；
Stirred by vague hints of a goal；
Seeking a soul！
Groping through terror and night
Up to the light：
Life in the dust and the clod
Sensing a God；
Flushed of the glamor and gleam
Caught from a dream；
Stained of the struggle and toil；
Stained of the soil；
Ally of God in the end
Helper and friend
Hero and prophet and priest
Out of the beast！
THE NOBLER LESSON
CHRIST was of virgin birth； and； being slain；
The creedists say； He rose from death again。
Oh； futile age…long talk of death and birth！
His life； that is the one thing wonder…worth；
Not how He came； but how He lived on earth。
For if gods stoop； and with quaint jugglery
Mock nature's laws； how shall that profit thee？
The nobler lesson is that mortals can
Grow godlike through this baffled front of man！
AT LAST
EACH race has died and lived and fought for the
〃true〃 gods o
