·
5 мин
Слушать

On The Downs

A faint sea without wind or sun;

A sky like flameless vapour dun;   A valley like an unsealed

That no man cares to weep upon,   Bare, without boon to crave,      Or flower to save.

And on the lip's edge of the down,

Here where the bent-grass burns to brown   In the dry sea-wind, and the

Crawls to the cliff-side and looks down,   I watch, and hear beneath      The low tide breathe.

Along the long lines of the cliff,

Down the flat sea-line without skiff   Or sail or back-blown fume for mark,

Through wind-worn heads of heath and stiff   Stems blossomless and stark      With dry sprays dark,

I send mine eyes out as for

Of comfort that all these refuse,   Tidings of light or living

From windward where the low clouds muse   And the sea blind and bare      Seems full of care.

So is it now as it was then,

And as men have been such are men.   There as I stood I seem to stand,

Here sitting chambered, and again   Feel spread on either hand      Sky, sea, and land.

As a queen taken and stripped and

Sat earth, discoloured and discrowned;   As a king's palace empty and

The sky was, without light or sound;   And on the summer's head      Were ashes shed.

Scarce wind enough was on the sea,

Scarce hope enough there moved in me,   To sow with live blown flowers of

The green plain's sad serenity,   Or with stray thoughts of light      Touch my soul's sight.

By footless ways and sterile

My thought unsatisfied, and bent   With blank unspeculative

On the untracked sands of discontent   Where, watched of helpless skies,      Life hopeless lies.

East and west went my soul to

Light, and the world was bare and blind   And the soil herbless where she

And saw men laughing scourge mankind,   Unsmitten by the rod      Of any God.

Out of time's blind old eyes were

Tears that were mortal, and left dead   The heart and spirit of the years,

And on mans fallen and helmless head   Time's disanointing tears      Fell cold as fears.

Hope flowering had but strength to

The fruitless fruitage of despair;   Grief trod the grapes of joy for wine,

Whereof love drinking unaware   Died as one undivine      And made no sign.

And soul and body dwelt apart;

And weary wisdom without heart   Stared on the dead round heaven and sighed,"Is death too hollow as thou art,   Or as man's living pride?"      And saying so died.

And my soul heard the songs and

That are about and under thrones,   And felt through all time's murmur

Fate's old imperious semitones   That made of good and ill      One same tune still.

Then "Where is God? and where is aid?

Or what good end of these?" she said;   "Is there no God or end at all,

Nor reason with unreason weighed,   Nor force to disenthral      Weak feet that fall?"No light to lighten and no

To chasten men?  Is there no God?"   So girt with anguish, iron-zoned,

Went my soul weeping as she trod   Between the men enthroned      And men that groaned.

O fool, that for brute cries of

Heard not the grey glad mother's song   Ring response from the hills and waves,

But heard harsh noises all day long   Of spirits that were slaves      And dwelt in graves.

The wise word of the secret

Who knows what life and death are worth,   And how no help and no

Can speed or stay things come to birth,   Nor all worlds' wheels that roll      Crush one born soul.

With all her tongues of life and death,

With all her bloom and blood and breath,   From all years dead and all things done,

In the ear of man the mother saith,   "There is no God,

O son,      If thou be none."So my soul sick with watching

That day the wonder of that word,   And as one springs out of a

Sprang, and the stagnant wells were stirred   Whence flows through gloom and gleam      Thought's soundless stream.

Out of pale cliff and sunburnt health,

Out of the low sea curled beneath   In the land's bending arm embayed,

Out of all lives that thought hears breathe   Life within life inlaid,      Was answer made.

A multitudinous

Of dust and flower and seed and stone,   In the deep sea-rock's mid-sea sloth,

In the live water's trembling zone,   In all men love and loathe,      One God at growth.

One forceful nature

That feeds itself with death and fate,   Evil and good, and change and time,

That within all men lies at wait   Till the hour shall bid them climb      And live sublime.

For all things come by fate to

At their unconquerable hour,   And time brings truth, and truth makes free,

And freedom fills time's veins with power,   As, brooding on that sea,      My thought filled me.

And the sun smote the clouds and slew,

And from the sun the sea's breath blew,   And white waves laughed and turned and

The long green heaving sea-field through,   And on them overhead      The sky burnt

Like a furled flag that wind sets free,

On the swift summer-coloured sea   Shook out the red lines of the light,

The live sun's standard, blown to lee   Across the live sea's white      And green delight.

And with divine triumphant

My spirit moved within me saw,   With burning passion of stretched eyes,

Clear as the light's own firstborn law,   In windless wastes of skies      Time's deep dawn rise.

0
0
Подарок

Algernon Charles Swinburne

Algernon Charles Swinburne (5 April 1837 – 10 April 1909) was an English poet, playwright, novelist, and critic. He wrote several novels and col…
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Сегодня читают
Ryfma
Ryfma - это социальная сеть для публикации книг, стихов и прозы, для общения писателей и читателей. Публикуй стихи и прозу бесплатно.