Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE VISION OF LIFE, by FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE VISION OF LIFE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Death and I
Last Line: But still they rush'd -- along -- along -- along!
Alternate Author Name(s): Butler, Frances Anne; Kemble, Fanny
Subject(s): Life


DEATH and I
On a hill so high
Stood side by side,
And we saw below,
Running to and fro,
All things that be in the world so wide.

Ten thousand cries
From the gulf did rise,
With a wild, discordant sound;
Laughter and wailing,
Prayer and railing,
As the ball spun round and round.

And over all
Hung a floating pall
Of dark and gory veils:
'Tis the blood of years,
And the sighs and tears
Which this noisome marsh exhales.

All this did seem
Like a fearful dream,
Till Death cried, with a joyful cry:
"Look down! look down!
It is all mine own,
Here comes life's pageant by!"

Like to a masque in ancient revelries,
With mingling sound of thousand harmonies,
Soft lute and viol, trumpet-blast and gong,
They came along, and still they came along!
Thousands, and tens of thousands, all that e'er
Peopled the earth or plough'd the unfathom'd deep,
All that now breathe the universal air,
And all that in the womb of time yet sleep.

Before this mighty host a woman came,
With hurried feet and oft-averted head;
With accursed light
Her eyes were bright,
And with inviting hand them on she beckoned.
Her follow'd close, with wild acclaim,
Her servants three: Lust, with his eye of fire,
And burning lips, that tremble with desire,
Pale, sunken cheek; -- and, as he stagger'd by,
The trumpet-blast was hush'd, and there arose
A melting strain of such soft melody
As breathed into the soul love's ecstasies and woes.

Loudly again the trumpet smote the air,
The double drum did roll, and to the sky
Bay'd war's blood-hounds, the deep artillery;
And Glory,
With feet all gory,
And dazzling eyes, rush'd by,
Waving a flashing sword and laurel wreath,
The pang and the inheritance of death.

He pass'd like lightning -- then ceased every sound
Of war triumphant, and of love's sweet song,
And all was silent. -- Creeping slow along,
With eager eyes that wander'd round and round,
Wild, haggard mien, and meager, wasted frame.
Bow'd to the earth, pale, starting Avarice came:
Clutching with palsied hands his golden god,
And tottering in the path the others trod.
These, one by one,
Came, and were gone:
And after them follow'd the ceaseless stream
Of worshippers, who with mad shout and scream,
Unhallow'd toil, and more unhallow'd mirth,
Follow their mistress, Pleasure, through the earth.
Death's eyeless sockets glared upon them all,
And many in the train were seen to fall,
Livid and cold, beneath his empty gaze:
But not for this was stay'd the might throng,
Nor ceased the warlike clang, or wanton lays,
But still they rush'd -- along -- along -- along!





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