Today's poet

Parting - Charlotte Bronte

THERE'S no use in weeping,
Though we are condemned to part:
There's such a thing as keeping
A remembrance in one's heart:

There's such a thing as dwelling
On the thought ourselves have nurs'd,
And with scorn and courage telling
The world to do its worst.

We'll not let its follies grieve us,
We'll just take them as they come;
And then every day will leave us
A merry laugh for home.

When we've left each friend and brother,
When we're parted wide and far,
We will think of one another,
As even better than we are.

Every glorious sight above us,
Every pleasant sight beneath,
We'll connect with those that love us,
Whom we truly love till death !

In the evening, when we're sitting
By the fire perchance alone,
Then shall heart with warm heart meeting,
Give responsive tone for tone.

We can burst the bonds which chain us,
Which cold human hands have wrought,
And where none shall dare restrain us
We can meet again, in thought.

So there's no use in weeping,
Bear a cheerful spirit still;
Never doubt that Fate is keeping
Future good for present ill !

Looks like you're doing a good job of single-handedly holding the fort on the poet thread this evening HHH! ;)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Derby Tup

Looks like you're doing a good job of single-handedly holding the fort on the poet thread this evening HHH! ;)

---

Just me, a glass (or two) of Cru des Cotes du Rhone, a crying baby every now and again to settle, and today's poetry purchases.

I'm enjoying myself. :)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Just me, a glass (or two) of Cru des Cotes du Rhone, a crying baby every now and again to settle, and today's poetry purchases.

I'm enjoying myself. :)

---

Sounds fine! :)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Derby Tup

Sounds fine! :)

---

Should have chosen a relevent poem of course...;)

From Frost at Midnight

The Frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry
Came loud - and hark, again! loud as before.
The inmates of my cottage, all at rest,
Have left me to that solitude, which suits
Abstruser musings : save that at my side
My cradled infant slumbers peacefully.
'Tis calm indeed ! so calm, that it disturbs
And vexes meditation with its strange
And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood,
This populous village ! Sea, and hill, and wood,
With all the numberless goings-on of life,
Inaudible as dreams !

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I saw a man pursuing the horizon - Stephen Crane (1871 - 1900)

I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
"It is futile," I said,
"You can never -"

"You lie," he cried,
And ran on.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Interesting last point there Freckle. At one time I would have worried about referencing "God", (assume it is the Christian / Jewish / Muslim one that most of us think about when that term is used for now), as I would have considered it a nod to the acknowledgement of its existance when clearly there is insufficient evidence to the existance of any supernatural sky god. (I'd love Thor to be real by the way. He'd be great at parties!) But "God" is so part of our culture whether in poetry, song or architecture that it is hard not to stumble upon references. Being a non believer doesn't stop me loving great poetry, or amazing church architecture, or Christmas carols for that matter. And if asked how I can I possibly do that, I normally reply: "Well, I can watch Coronation Street without believing that any of it is true."

---

Interesting point too HHH. Have a look at: http://newhumanist.org.uk/1451/blind-faith.

I think the quote that Taylor uses at the end of the link was from J.B Priestly who said (I believe) "that trying to prove God exists scientifically, is like trying to prove the world is round musically". What he meant, I think, is that the two paradigms of thought are incommensurable.

Being a bit of a Wittgenstein groupie, I guess he'd also say that these are just two incompatible 'language games' (i.e. the 'scientific' and the 'religious'). Also, having an interest in the philopsohy of Science (clearly I've too much time on my hands), which most espoused scientist haven't a clue about, I too know that it is founded on many myths, and that it's claimed 'disinterested rationality', is simply one more of them. See the recent arguments about the climate change debate to really understand how science works - i.e. truth is simply what most people believe, or what those with the loudest and most authoritive voices bellow - it doesn't depend on anything else!

Ooops. None of this seems very poetic, unless of course you believe in the 'poetics of practice', but i won't bore anymore!;)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Parting - Charlotte Bronte

THERE'S no use in weeping,
Though we are condemned to part:
There's such a thing as keeping
A remembrance in one's heart:

There's such a thing as dwelling
On the thought ourselves have nurs'd,
And with scorn and courage telling
The world to do its worst.

We'll not let its follies grieve us,
We'll just take them as they come;
And then every day will leave us
A merry laugh for home.

When we've left each friend and brother,
When we're parted wide and far,
We will think of one another,
As even better than we are.

Every glorious sight above us,
Every pleasant sight beneath,
We'll connect with those that love us,
Whom we truly love till death !

In the evening, when we're sitting
By the fire perchance alone,
Then shall heart with warm heart meeting,
Give responsive tone for tone.

We can burst the bonds which chain us,
Which cold human hands have wrought,
And where none shall dare restrain us
We can meet again, in thought.

So there's no use in weeping,
Bear a cheerful spirit still;
Never doubt that Fate is keeping
Future good for present ill !

---

...And that's bl**dy brilliant. Many thanks:)

Letters from Yorkshire - Maura Dooley

In February, digging her garden, planting potatoes
she saw the first Lapwings return, and came
indoors to write to me, her knuckles singing
as they reddened in the warmth.

It's not romance, simply how things are
you out there in the cold, seeing the seasons
turning, me with my heartful of headlines
feeding words onto a blank screen.
Is your life more real because you dig and sow?

You wouldn't say so, breaking ice on a waterbutt,
clearing a path through snow. Still it's you
who sends me word of that other world,
pouring air and light into an envelope so that
at night, watching the same news in different houses
our souls tap out messages across the icy miles.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Mossdog

Interesting point too HHH. Have a look at: http://newhumanist.org.uk/1451/blind-faith.

I think the quote that Taylor uses at the end of the link was from J.B Priestly who said (I believe) "that trying to prove God exists scientifically, is like trying to prove the world is round musically". What he meant, I think, is that the two paradigms of thought are incommensurable.

Being a bit of a Wittgenstein groupie, I guess he'd also say that these are just two incompatible 'language games' (i.e. the 'scientific' and the 'religious'). Also, having an interest in the philopsohy of Science (clearly I've too much time on my hands), which most espoused scientist haven't a clue about, I too know that it is founded on many myths, and that it's claimed 'disinterested rationality', is simply one more of them. See the recent arguments about the climate change debate to really understand how science works - i.e. truth is simply what most people believe, or what those with the loudest and most authoritive voices bellow - it doesn't depend on anything else!

Ooops. None of this seems very poetic, unless of course you believe in the 'poetics of practice', but i won't bore anymore!;)

---

Thanks for the link Mossdog. That is the sort of article that I know I will never ever have the ability to write, even though I agree with its content.

Even though the two paradigms of thought are incommensurable, it doesn't make them both true. ;)

I have perhaps the opposite interest in the "science of belief" and it is fascinating that we are only just discovering our true irrationality and why it is such an evolutionary advantage, which of course everything must be referred to.

The "truth" remains the truth, no matter what spin is placed upon it. Science aims to fill the gaps in our knowledge with further science, whereas the religous, (sweeping statement I know) are often happy to fill the gaps with god's work.

In order to retain some poetry equilibrium, I refer the honorable lady to the response I gave some moments ago.

There was a young man from Kendal,
Who studied both Darwin and Mendel.
He thought evolution
A neater solution
Than Creationist texts which are mental.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Thanks for the link Mossdog. That is the sort of article that I know I will never ever have the ability to write, even though I agree with its content.

Even though the two paradigms of thought are incommensurable, it doesn't make them both true. ;)

I have perhaps the opposite interest in the "science of belief" and it is fascinating that we are only just discovering our true irrationality and why it is such an evolutionary advantage, which of course everything must be referred to.

The "truth" remains the truth, no matter what spin is placed upon it. Science aims to fill the gaps in our knowledge with further science, whereas the religous, (sweeping statement I know) are often happy to fill the gaps with god's work.

In order to retain some poetry equilibrium, I refer the honorable lady to the response I gave some moments ago.

There was a young man from Kendal,
Who studied both Darwin and Mendel.
He thought evolution
A neater solution
Than Creationist texts which are mental.

---

Eh lad! It's a Saturday night when all sane people should be down t'pub (unless they've got kiddies to look after or are girding their loins for a fell race tomorrow) and you've got me on to me pet topic on which I can bore for England. But look, just listen to me ol'mad mate Nietzsche (he even managed to squeeze the word 'poerty' in there):

"What then is truth? A mobile army of metaphors, metonyms, and anthropomorphisms -- in short, a sum of human relations, which have been enhanced, transposed, and embellished poetically and rhetorically, and which after long use seem firm, canonical, and obligatory to a people: truths are illusions about which one has forgotten that is what they are; metaphors which are worn out and without sensuous power; coins which have lost their pictures and now matter only as metal, no longer as coins.
We still do not know where the urge for truth comes from; for as yet we have heard only of the obligation imposed by society that it should exist: to be truthful means using the customary metaphors - in moral terms, the obligation to lie according to fixed convention, to lie herd-like in a style obligatory for all..."


'On truth and lie in an extra-moral sense,' The Viking Portable Nietzsche, p.46-7, Walter Kaufmann transl.

Enough said? (I doubt it :D)

Or, to put it another way...

TRUTH?

by Gerald England

There are 16 million shades of grey
There is no black
There is no white
You have to draw your own line
It may or may not be straight
There are always mitigating circumstances
Judgement can only be based
On passed-down wisdom and self-experience
Stopping to take stock
Is not an option
You can never find yourself
You can only conform or differ
From each perceived image
The cataracts of common sense
Can never be removed
Focusing on reality’s a fallacy

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Old Whippet

High Cup Nick, Aniversary Waltz,
Allendale Challenge, Windy Gyle, Cheviot Summit,
Chevy Chase or Wasdale Horseshoe, Borrowdale, Ben Nevis (if i can get in)
Langdale, Simonside and what ever the club decides for the championships.

Not a poem, but this poets provisional intentions for next year.....any of you poetic scamperers drinking beer before or after (not during - even I have some standards) these races???

---

Hi there OW, I'm fancying Anniversary Walktz, Borrowdale and Langdale and will do as many as I can next year. I have lots of good intentions for upping my fell running a gear or two. Will keep you posted as drinking beer afterwards would be great.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Hes

Hi there OW, I'm fancying Anniversary Walktz, Borrowdale and Langdale and will do as many as I can next year. I have lots of good intentions for upping my fell running a gear or two. Will keep you posted as drinking beer afterwards would be great.

---

Hurray! a drinking partner. Anyone else want to come along and make us a gang? So you'll be back from your Indian adventure Hes?

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Letters from Yorkshire - Maura Dooley

In February, digging her garden, planting potatoes
she saw the first Lapwings return, and came
indoors to write to me, her knuckles singing
as they reddened in the warmth.

It's not romance, simply how things are
you out there in the cold, seeing the seasons
turning, me with my heartful of headlines
feeding words onto a blank screen.
Is your life more real because you dig and sow?

You wouldn't say so, breaking ice on a waterbutt,
clearing a path through snow. Still it's you
who sends me word of that other world,
pouring air and light into an envelope so that
at night, watching the same news in different houses
our souls tap out messages across the icy miles.

---

HHH, this is wonderful. I'll print it out and stick it up in my allotment shed and hope the mice don't eat it! I have icy days of digging and preparing to look forward to on my return from India and hopefully many cosy evenings with a poetry book and all of you for company on the forum.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Old Whippet

Hurray! a drinking partner. Anyone else want to come along and make us a gang? So you'll be back from your Indian adventure Hes?

---

I'm off on Monday and back 8th January. One of the reasons why my posts have been scant of late. I'm supposed to be working now but had to call in and catch up on all tonight's wonderful reading.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

"If in doubt - Limerick" is my favourite quote of the day. :D

---

Cheers triple H.
Have over indulged.

blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah beer
blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah queer
blah di di blah blah drunk
blah di di blah blah skunk
blah blah blah, blah blah Germain Greer

See - even after a night out.........

Just want to say that I'm really sorry to have missed this evening's poetry but I'm glad to see that a few of you held the fort and even had in depth discussion about theology, philosophy and science.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Old Whippet

Cheers triple H.
Have over indulged.

blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah beer
blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah queer
blah di di blah blah drunk
blah di di blah blah skunk
blah blah blah, blah blah Germain Greer

See - even after a night out.........

---

brilliant!:D

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Hes

I'm off on Monday and back 8th January. One of the reasons why my posts have been scant of late. I'm supposed to be working now but had to call in and catch up on all tonight's wonderful reading.

---

you'll be a miss. And all the more reason to keep this thread alive pending your return. Derby Tub has set the bar very high for travelogue poetry. The challenge is yours!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Hes

Just want to say that I'm really sorry to have missed this evening's poetry but I'm glad to see that a few of you held the fort and even had in depth discussion about theology, philosophy and science.

---

like to think I added depth!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Old Whippet

you'll be a miss. And all the more reason to keep this thread alive pending your return. Derby Tub has set the bar very high for travelogue poetry. The challenge is yours!

---

He has set quite a challenge...could I blame deserts or snow and lack of internet do you think?:o I will try my very best and will be carrying a notebook at all times so even when I can't post, I'll be creating and can send retrospectively...I promise I won't make you sit through 1000s of photos though.:D

You always add depth to the thread OW!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Letters from Yorkshire - Maura Dooley

In February, digging her garden, planting potatoes
she saw the first Lapwings return, and came
indoors to write to me, her knuckles singing
as they reddened in the warmth.

It's not romance, simply how things are
you out there in the cold, seeing the seasons
turning, me with my heartful of headlines
feeding words onto a blank screen.
Is your life more real because you dig and sow?

You wouldn't say so, breaking ice on a waterbutt,
clearing a path through snow. Still it's you
who sends me word of that other world,
pouring air and light into an envelope so that
at night, watching the same news in different houses
our souls tap out messages across the icy miles.

---

HHH I love this! I really like how two different lives can complement and appreciate each other. So hopeful and encouraging.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by tri-mind

Medication.

Two tablets of lithium 1000 mg,
To keep me level emotionally,
Venlafaxine two capsules 300 mg and red,
To stop me from going off of my head,
Lastly four tablets 250 mg of seroquel,
To stop me seeing gargoyles and creatures from hell,
This is what it takes everyday to keep me sane,
Shhh don't tell the doctors i pour them down the drain.

By Matt Harmston

Disclaimer: All above is true except for the last line in case my consultant is reading this.

---

Tri this is a class piece i adore it well done! v v good! :)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Interesting last point there Freckle. At one time I would have worried about referencing "God", (assume it is the Christian / Jewish / Muslim one that most of us think about when that term is used for now), as I would have considered it a nod to the acknowledgement of its existance when clearly there is insufficient evidence to the existance of any supernatural sky god. (I'd love Thor to be real by the way. He'd be great at parties!) But "God" is so part of our culture whether in poetry, song or architecture that it is hard not to stumble upon references. Being a non believer doesn't stop me loving great poetry, or amazing church architecture, or Christmas carols for that matter. And if asked how I can I possibly do that, I normally reply: "Well, I can watch Coronation Street without believing that any of it is true."

---

excellent point harry! .....well said!:)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

I just bought "Best Poems on the Underground" today and I'd chosen this very one to share tonight. But you jolly went and beat me to it.

So I'll share this one instead...

Happiness
A state you dare not enter
with hopes of staying,
quicksand in the marshes, and all

the roads leading to a castle
that doesn’t exist.
But there it is, as promised,

with its perfect bridge above
the crocodiles,
and its doors forever open.

Stephen Dunn

---

just lovely HHH thank you :)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Mossdog

Or, to put it another way...

TRUTH?

by Gerald England

There are 16 million shades of grey
There is no black
There is no white
You have to draw your own line
It may or may not be straight
There are always mitigating circumstances
Judgement can only be based
On passed-down wisdom and self-experience
Stopping to take stock
Is not an option
You can never find yourself
You can only conform or differ
From each perceived image
The cataracts of common sense
Can never be removed
Focusing on reality’s a fallacy

---

this poem and the preceding debate is yet another reason why i bloody love this thread brilliant!!!!!

Well, looks like i have missed a really good night here on the thread, OW its good to see your back with avengence!, Mossy and HHH a theological debate hurrah! tri more class poetry, DT a one to compete with travelogue wise! and Hes, our lovely Hes...how will we survive? ...keep in touch girl and this one is for you our little artiste....

DON'T GO FAR OFF, NOT EVEN FOR A DAY
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Pablo Neruda </B>

ps after a night out on the tiles with good friends, sipping mineral water (running tomorrow), it is blessed relief to get out of four inch heels....and have a sip of vino...bliss

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Old Whippet

Cheers triple H.
Have over indulged.

blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah beer
blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah queer
blah di di blah blah drunk
blah di di blah blah skunk
blah blah blah, blah blah Germain Greer

See - even after a night out.........

---

Don't worry OW, I can fill in the gaps...

Old Whippet went out for a beer,
Had too many, and felt a tad queer.
Was he skunk as a drunk?
Maybe drunk as a skunk?
He's not sure, but he'll blame Germain Greer.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Don't worry OW, I can fill in the gaps...

Old Whippet went out for a beer,
Had too many, and felt a tad queer.
Was he skunk as a drunk?
Maybe drunk as a skunk?
He's not sure, but he'll blame Germain Greer.

---

Knew I could rely on you Harry.

Now....17 mins to drag my hungover carcass out to meet the Sunday runners. Urgh.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Old Whippet

Knew I could rely on you Harry.

Now....17 mins to drag my hungover carcass out to meet the Sunday runners. Urgh.

---

know the feeling...wish i hadn't had thoe two glasses of wine late last night now....double urgh!........:)

freckle needs to show her mettle
on 5 miles across the sand
lets hope by the end her fettle
is really rather grand.

onwards and upwards....off to hydrate!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by freckle

Well, looks like i have missed a really good night here on the thread, OW its good to see your back with avengence!, Mossy and HHH a theological debate hurrah! tri more class poetry, DT a one to compete with travelogue wise! and Hes, our lovely Hes...how will we survive? ...keep in touch girl and this one is for you our little artiste....

DON'T GO FAR OFF, NOT EVEN FOR A DAY
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Pablo Neruda </B>

ps after a night out on the tiles with good friends, sipping mineral water (running tomorrow), it is blessed relief to get out of four inch heels....and have a sip of vino...bliss

---

Oh bloomin eck as they say in these parts...I'm having a bit of a wobbly moment now! Freckle, you are a sweetheart. What a gorgeous poem. Am not supposed to be here as I just gave up my fell race to finish the work I haven't finished but I just popped in to see what you'd all been up to in my absence. I'll call in later when the flowers are finished, prints framed and orders parceled up. Might even manage a bit of packing! xx
ps Glad you had a good night out.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Old Whippet

Knew I could rely on you Harry.

Now....17 mins to drag my hungover carcass out to meet the Sunday runners. Urgh.

---

Or was last night more like this?

To a lass, when out on the beer,
Whip's request made her feel queer.
"I may be quite drunk,
And whiff like a skunk.
But I've standards. Thank Germain Greer."

Enjoy your run OW.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Or was last night more like this?

To a lass, when out on the beer,
Whip's request made her feel queer.
"I may be quite drunk,
And whiff like a skunk.
But I've standards. Thank Germain Greer."

Enjoy your run OW.

---

HHH- was that you in the corner, taking it all in???

11 damp miles
Hamstring and stomach protest
Ah! Licorice tea

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Old Whippet

HHH- was that you in the corner, taking it all in???

11 damp miles
Hamstring and stomach protest
Ah! Licorice tea

---

No. That was me in the red dress you scoundrel. I've never heard such a proposition before. Is it legal, or even anatomically possible? :eek::D

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

No. That was me in the red dress you scoundrel. I've never heard such a proposition before. Is it legal, or even anatomically possible? :eek::D

---

It all makes sense now. The stubble should have warned me.

Heavy legs scale groins
Beach puddles galore
Freckle returns 2nd lady
(but only out of 4!!!!!)

bit of a slow one from me at blyth sands but what a lovely little race and a lovely crowd of people...very uplifting!....

OW and HHH .....ahem........:eek:
Hes...good luck with the final preparations....not long now....

Tides - Jenny Joseph


There are some coasts
Where the sea comes in spectacularly
Throwing itself up gullies, challenging cliffs,
Filling the harbours with great swirls and flourish,
A theatrical event that people gather for
Curtain up twice daily. You need to know
The hour of its starting, you have to be on guard.

There are other places
Places where you do not really notice
The gradual stretch of the fertile silk of water
No gurgling or dashings here, no froth no pounding
Only at some point the echo may sound different
And looking by chance one sees ‘Oh the tide is in.’

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Tides - Jenny Joseph


There are some coasts
Where the sea comes in spectacularly
Throwing itself up gullies, challenging cliffs,
Filling the harbours with great swirls and flourish,
A theatrical event that people gather for
Curtain up twice daily. You need to know
The hour of its starting, you have to be on guard.

There are other places
Places where you do not really notice
The gradual stretch of the fertile silk of water
No gurgling or dashings here, no froth no pounding
Only at some point the echo may sound different
And looking by chance one sees ‘Oh the tide is in.’

---

this is lovely HHH thank you for posting...the sea and sands are indeed beautiful and make for wonderful metaphors.......:)

The Buried Life
Matthew Arnold

Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet,
Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet!
I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll.
Yes, yes, we know that we can jest,
We know, we know that we can smile!
But there's a something in this breast,
To which thy light words bring no rest,
And thy gay smiles no anodyne.
Give me thy hand, and hush awhile,
And turn those limpid eyes on mine,
And let me read there, love! thy inmost soul.

Alas! is even love too weak
To unlock the heart, and let it speak?
Are even lovers powerless to reveal
To one another what indeed they feel?
I knew the mass of men conceal'd
Their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd
They would by other men be met
With blank indifference, or with blame reproved;
I knew they lived and moved
Trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest
Of men, and alien to themselves—and yet
The same heart beats in every human breast!

But we, my love!—doth a like spell benumb
Our hearts, our voices?—must we too be dumb?

Ah! well for us, if even we,
Even for a moment, can get free
Our heart, and have our lips unchain'd;
For that which seals them hath been deep-ordain'd!

Fate, which foresaw
How frivolous a baby man would be—
By what distractions he would be possess'd,
How he would pour himself in every strife,
And well-nigh change his own identity—
That it might keep from his capricious play
His genuine self, and force him to obey
Even in his own despite his being's law,
Bade through the deep recesses of our breast
The unregarded river of our life
Pursue with indiscernible flow its way;
And that we should not see
The buried stream, and seem to be
Eddying at large in blind uncertainty,
Though driving on with it eternally.

But often, in the world's most crowded streets,
But often, in the din of strife,
There rises an unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of our buried life;
A thirst to spend our fire and restless force
In tracking out our true, original course;
A longing to inquire
Into the mystery of this heart which beats
So wild, so deep in us—to know
Whence our lives come and where they go.
And many a man in his own breast then delves,
But deep enough, alas! none ever mines.
And we have been on many thousand lines,
And we have shown, on each, spirit and power;
But hardly have we, for one little hour,
Been on our own line, have we been ourselves—
Hardly had skill to utter one of all
The nameless feelings that course through our breast,
But they course on for ever unexpress'd.
And long we try in vain to speak and act
Our hidden self, and what we say and do
Is eloquent, is well—but 't#is not true!
And then we will no more be rack'd
With inward striving, and demand
Of all the thousand nothings of the hour
Their stupefying power;
Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call!
Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn,
From the soul's subterranean depth upborne
As from an infinitely distant land,
Come airs, and floating echoes, and convey
A melancholy into all our day.
Only—but this is rare—
When a belov{'e}d hand is laid in ours,
When, jaded with the rush and glare
Of the interminable hours,
Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear,
When our world-deafen'd ear
Is by the tones of a loved voice caress'd—
A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast,
And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again.
The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain,
And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know.
A man becomes aware of his life's flow,
And hears its winding murmur; and he sees
The meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze.

And there arrives a lull in the hot race
Wherein he doth for ever chase
That flying and elusive shadow, rest.
An air of coolness plays upon his face,
And an unwonted calm pervades his breast.
And then he thinks he knows
The hills where his life rose,
And the sea where it goes.