Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, NATURE'S INSURGENTS, by MARCUS S. C. RICKARDS


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

NATURE'S INSURGENTS, by                    
First Line: Ye mighty powers that haunt us
Last Line: Shall find us restful still.
Subject(s): Fate; Life; Love; Nature; Tears; Destiny


YE mighty Powers that haunt us,
In seeming aim to taunt us
With impotence, or daunt us
If we outfly your rule!
Had Fate to being brought me
In times when seers had taught me
That gods thus fought or sought me,
I scarce had been their fool.

I soon had learnt to sunder
Jove's wrath from gale and thunder:
Urania's gaze had wonder
But never homage bred.
Still as in legends hoary,
Too oft ye shame our glory,
Disdain weak Virtue's story
And lift proud Vice's head.

Skies laugh o'er war-fiends raving
And flags of victory waving:
Gloom clouds sweet Saints while saving
The wounded, dying, lost.
Wrong journeys mid controlling
Of storms, else fiercely rolling:
The route towards heart consoling
Is travelled tempest-tossed.

Soft lyrics from the bower,
Rare perfume from each flower,
Lend magic to the hour
When Love's true tale is told:
Yet stainless blue is spreading,
And softest airs are shedding
Full charm on false hearts wedding
For pomp or place or gold.

Apollo's glow is brighter
Oft, and pure Dian lighter
When Hate the disuniter
Parts twain, than when Love links.
Cold glitter, heartless gleaming
That mock our Passion's dreaming!
We, musing, planning, scheming,
Return your scorn, methinks.

What recks the smiling Ocean
Of their disturbed devotion,
Wrath, envy, wild emotion,
Who range yon golden sands?
Nor will they mind his frowning,
But risk harm, danger, drowning,
If Love relent in crowning
Heart troth by clasping hands.

No lark that sets Earth ringing,
Or blithe finch, pause in singing
To heed the mourners bringing
In tears their coffined freight:
No spasm of Spring weeping,
No mist o'er graveyard creeping
She minds who, vigil keeping,
Sits lone from Dawn till late.

We sow, we reap; disdaining
Fair sunshine, or foul raining;
Our feet despise enchaining
By fetters cold or hot:
Life's cordial tonic taste we,
Each on his mission haste we,
Nor, tho' ye baulk us, waste we
Tears o'er our fitful lot.

False Powers, your guile defying,
No stress, alive or dying
Shall drive me to relying
On your capricious Will!
Love! be we true together,
And mock we empty tether;
Then calm or stormy weather
Shall find us restful still.





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