Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TRIUMPH, by SALLIE MACON GARLAND PIPPEN


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TRIUMPH, by                    
First Line: You pity me, you strong who go your ways
Last Line: Pity me not!
Alternate Author Name(s): Pippen, Sally Macon Garland
Subject(s): Pity


You pity me, you strong who go your ways
Out in the world, that cloistered I should be,
Cut off, apart from all you joy in. Ah!
You little weigh the world wherein I dwell,
My world which stretches vaster far than yours,
And will enlarge when this material earth
To unknown shape and substance is transformed.

My realm is boundless, ocean without shore,
And earth without circumference. Here I lie
And grasp your plans and ways as cannot you
Yourselves. Not doing, clearer still my seeing;
Apart from motives, interests, rivalries
That stir your actions, I but plainer view
Their workings in the happenings of your lives.

My realm is boundless; thought is limited
By naught but force of its own origin;
Within my enfeebled body, mind springs up,
Plays like the fountain that will not be choked,
Cleared crystal by the great revealer, Pain,
Descrying to my soul the meanings once
Seen but as darkly through a glass or hid.

And ah, the spirit-whisperings that fan
My narrow bed, an altar whereon meet
The outstretched wings of golden cherubim!
My flesh, the ready sacrifice, but waits
Consuming by the fires celestial, whence
My soul-incense its triumph shall proclaim
Up to the throne of Him who breathed its life!

For you, ye kindly ones whose footsteps find
The stairway leading to my chamber door,
Twice blessed here your ministerings! Can they
Who walk the ways of men know as I know
Your heartaches? When you come with gifts and cheer
And your eyes say to mine, "I too am needy;
Soul, give thou to me!"

Lost years? An empty life? This old world still
Learns not the values of the One that saith,
"Who loseth life shall find it!" We forget;
Earth-blind our eyes, too much in ways of men.
So then, O world beyond my windows,
Pity not the one who but looks on;
And you, ye friendly hearts that watch and love,
Pity me not!





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