Invocation To Youth
ME then, as ever, like the wind at morning
Joyous,
O Youth, in the aged world
Freshness to feel the eternities around it, Rain, stars and clouds, light and the sacred dew
ME then, as ever, like the wind at morning
Joyous,
O Youth, in the aged world
Freshness to feel the eternities around it, Rain, stars and clouds, light and the sacred dew
I The early night falls on the plain In cloud and desolating rain
I see no more, but feel around The ruined earth, the wounded ground
There in the dark, on either side The road, are all the brave who died
I think not on the battles ...
At the road's end glimmer the station lights;
How small beneath the immense hollow of Night's Lonely and living silence
Air that raced And tingled on the eyelids as we faced The long road stretched between the poplars flying To the dark ...
Away, sad thoughts, and teasing Perplexities, away
Let other blood go freezing,
We will be wise and gay
For here is all heart-easing,
Soft little hands that stray and clutch,
Like fern fronds curl and uncurl bold,
While baby faces lie in
Close sleep as flowers at night that fold,
In a vision of the night I saw them,
In the battles of the night
'Mid the roar and the reeling shadows of blood They were moving like light,
Light of the reason, guarded Tense within the will,
She was binding the wounds of her enemies when they came— The lint in her hand unrolled
They battered the door with their rifle-butts, crashed it in: She faced them gentle and bold
They haled her before the judges where they sat In their...
No, though our all be spent— Heart's extremest love,
Spirit's whole intent,
All that nerve can feel,
All that brain invent,— Still beyond appeal Will Divine Desire Yet more excellent Precious cost require Of this mortal stuff,— Neve...
Ah, now this happy month is gone,
Not now, my heart, complain,
Nor rail at Time because so soon He takes his own again
He takes his own, the weeks, the hours,
What is lovelier than rain that lingers Falling through the western light
The light that's red between my fingers Bathes infinite heaven's remotest height
Whither will the cloud its darkness carry Whose trembling drops about me spill
In the high leaves of a walnut,
On the very topmost boughs,
A boy that climbed the branching bole His cradled limbs would house
On the airy bed that rocked him Long, idle hours he'd lie Alone with white clouds sailing The warm blue ...
Is it we that are wise, is it we,
Who have bought with a price of grief A wisdom seldom free From scorn or disbelief,
Who find this world fulfil An end that is not our will,
Who toil with the light in our eyes Showing us scarce begu...