Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A BALLAD OF WHITECHAPEL, by ISAAC ROSENBERG Poem Explanation Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: God's mercy shines Last Line: Into strange sunlit bliss. Subject(s): London; Sickness; Death; Love | ||||||||
God's mercy shines; And our full hearts must make record of this, For grief that burst from out its dark confines Into strange sunlit bliss. I stood where glowed The merry glare of golden whirring lights Above the monstrous mass that seethed and flowed Through one of London's nights. I watched the gleams Of jagged warm lights on shrunk faces pale: I heard mad laughter as one hears in dreams Or Hell's harsh lurid tale. The traffic rolled, A gliding chaos populous of din, A steaming wail at doom the Lord had scrawled For perilous loads of sin. And my soul thought: " What fearful land have my steps wandered to? God's love is everywhere, but here is naught Save love His anger slew." And as I stood Lost in promiscuous bewilderment, Which to my mazed soul was wonder-food, A girl in garments rent Peered 'neath lids shamed And spoke to me and murmured to my blood. My soul stopped dead, and all my horror flamed At her forgot of God. Her hungered eyes, Craving and yet so sadly spiritual, Shone like the unsmirched corner of a jewel Where else foul blemish lies. I walked with her Because my heart thought, " Here the soul is clean, The fragrance of the frankincense and myrrh Is lost in odours mean." She told me how The shadow of black death had newly come And touched her father, mother, even now Grim-hovering in her home, Where fevered lay Her wasting brother in a cold, bleak room, Which theirs would be no longer than a day, And then -- the streets and doom. Lord! Lord! Dear Lord! I knew that life was bitter, but my soul Recoiled, as anguish-smitten by sharp sword, Grieving such body's dole. Then grief gave place To a strange pulsing rapture as she spoke; For I could catch the glimpses of God's grace, And a desire awoke To take this trust And warm and gladden it with love's new fires, Burning the past to ashes and to dust Through purified desires. We walked our way, One way hewn for us from the birth of Time; For we had wandered into Love's strange clime Through ways sin waits to slay. Love's euphony, In Love's own temple that is our glad hearts, Makes now long music wild deliciously; Now Grief hath used his darts. Love infinite, Chastened by sorrow, hallowed by pure flame -- Not all the surging world can compass it. Love -- Love -- O tremulous name! God's mercy shines; And my full heart hath made record of this, Of grief that burst from out its dark confines Into strange sunlit bliss. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE INVENTION OF LOVE by MATTHEA HARVEY TWO VIEWS OF BUSON by ROBERT HASS A LOVE FOR FOUR VOICES: HOMAGE TO FRANZ JOSEPH HAYDN by ANTHONY HECHT AN OFFERING FOR PATRICIA by ANTHONY HECHT LATE AFTERNOON: THE ONSLAUGHT OF LOVE by ANTHONY HECHT A SWEETENING ALL AROUND ME AS IT FALLS by JANE HIRSHFIELD A CARELESS HEART by ISAAC ROSENBERG |
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