Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, OVERSEAS; IN MEMORY OF ALAN SEEGER, by ABBIE CARTER GOODLOE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

OVERSEAS; IN MEMORY OF ALAN SEEGER, by                    
First Line: Across the vexed, insuperable sea
Last Line: The imperishable essence of his soul!
Subject(s): Death; Memory; Seeger, Alan (1888-1916); Soldiers; War; Dead, The


Across the vexed, insuperable sea,
Afar, we call to him — alas, in vain!
No voice of passionate sweetness answers me,
No gallant hand waves back to us again.
Across relentless barriers of foam
With useless tears our longing eyes we strain,
And useless arms stretch forth to lure him home.

He will not come to us! Afar, heart high,
He fared to find fulfilment of his dreams.
Athirst for romance, beaconing destiny,
He sought what to fair youth the fairest seems.
Singing he went — song ever on his lips —
Bright Phosphor of clear poesy, whose beams
Still shine on us even in his star's eclipse.

Across the blue, the unreturning sea,
Afar, we call to him — alas, I hear
No more a voice that chants of liberty,
No song thrill out the springtime of the year!
No clarion call from desolate Champagne
Where roll red, ebbing battle-tides, or where
The trampled vineland lapses to the Aisne.

Silent the Meuse save for the cannon's roar,
The bugle's note, the skyplanes' winnowing hum;
Silent the reaches of the scarred north shore;
Silent the shell-swept trenches of the Somme;
Silent for evermore the lonely air
Of all that lyric sweetness, hushed and dumb,
Muted upon a hillside of Santerre.

Hostage of our land's honour, by red ways,
There on that bloody slope, 'neath flame-lit skies,
With the brave few he yielded his brief days
Battling for freedom's menaced liberties.
Glimpsing, no more, horizons of romance,
Nor love's bright paths, he turned stern, dying eyes
Towards the fire-rimmed, "the brave frontiers of France."

Oh, not for him, earth's tranquil, pleasant way!
That fervent pulse which beat to life's desire,
Leapt to the call of arms without dismay.
No conscript of blind fate! Blithe heart afire
With passionate zeal, he gave his latest breath
As some enraptured martyr mounts the pyre
And happily goes singing to his death.

Spirit of flame and tears and tenderness!
Singer and soldier, debonair and gay!
Fond worshipper of earth's dear loveliness
From Orizaba's snows to far Calais!
Pilgrim of dreams! Knight-errant without fears!
Alas, Death vanquished, should have turned away
And spared thee to Life's utmost days and years.

Useless, this vain complaining of thy will,
O Lord of Death! Earth-born we bear our part —
All thine inexorable laws fulfil,
By thine appointed ways from earth depart.
What boots it thee, cold Death, that mute, alone,
Those ardent lips, that once intrepid heart,
Sleep now quite passionless and overthrown?

But oh, to us left all unsatisfied,
What solace can there be for evermore?
The fair fruition of his hopes denied,
His last sigh breathed upon a distant shore!
How comfort us? —except, despite war's toll,
Song has saved perfect from art's ravished store
The imperishable essence of his soul!





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