Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A RECORD; A FRAGMENT, by WILLIAM SHARP Poet's Biography First Line: I hear the dark tempestuous sea Last Line: Through birth and death, doth upward range. Alternate Author Name(s): Macleod, Fiona Subject(s): Dreams; Kisses; Sea; Soul; Tears; Nightmares; Ocean | ||||||||
I hear the dark tempestuous sea Boom through the night monotonously, The hoarse faint cry of breaking waves Lashed by the wind that moans and raves Upon the deep -- I hear them fall Against cliff-bases smooth and tall, A music wild, funereal. I seem to listen to a sound That circles earth for ever round, The dirge of an eternal song, A dull deep music swept along The listening coasts of many lands, Sighed mournfully o'er level sands, Or thunder'd amidst rocky strands. I sit within my lonely room Where the lamp's flame just breaks the gloom, And thro' the darkness of the night I see far down a starry light Where nestled safely in the chine The village street in one long line Doth like a glittering serpent shine. The keen wind blows through the dark skies, The stars look down like countless eyes That see and know, and therefore stare Unmoved 'midst their serene high air: And life seems but a dream, a shade Which fleeting Time o'er space hath laid, But which with Time shall one day fade. Old memories are mine once more, I see strange lives I lived of yore; With dimmed sight see I far-off things, I feel the breath of bygone springs, And ringing strangely in mine ears I hear old laughter, alien tears Slow falling, voices of past years Far back the soul can never see -- But dreams restore mysteriously Dim visions of a possible past, A time ere the last bond was cast Aside that bound the struggling soul Unto the brute, and first some goal Loomed dimly over Life's vast shoal. And dreaming so I live my dream: I see a yellow turbid stream Heavily flowing through clustered weeds Of tropic growth, and 'midst the reeds Of tall green rice upon its bank A crouching tiger, long and lank, With slow tail swaying from flank to flank. Its eyes are yellow flames, and burn Upon a man who dips an urn Into the Ganges' sacred wave, Unknowing he has reached his grave -- A short, hoarse roar, a scream, a blow! And even as I shudder, lo, My tiger-selt I seem to know. And dreaming so I live my dream: I see a sunrise glory gleam Against vast mountain-heights, and there Upon a peak precipitous, bare, I see an eagle scan the plain Immeasurable of his domain, With fierce untamable disdain: When first the stars wax pale his eyes Front the wide east where day doth rise, And with unflinching gaze look straight Against the sun, then proud, elate, On tireless wings he swoops on high O'er countless leagues, and thro' the sky Drifts like a dark cloud ominously: Then as day dies and swift night springs, I hear the sudden rush of wings And see the eagle from the plain Sweep to his eyrie once again With fierce keen dauntless eyes aglow -- And even as I watch them, lo, Mine eagle-self I seem to know. And dreaming so I live my dream: I hear a savage voice, a scream Scarcely articulate, and far I see a red light like a star Flashed 'neath old trees, and the first fire Made by the brutish tribe burn higher Until unfed its flames expire: I see the savage whose hand drew The fire from wood, whose swift breath blew The flame until it gained new strength, -- I see him stand supreme at length, And pointing to the burning flame Bend low his swart and trembling frame And cry aloud a guttural name: A god at last the tribe hath found, A god at whose strange crackling sound Each man must bend in dread until This strange new god hath worked his will: But lo, one day the fire spread fast, And ere its fury is o'erpast The tribe within its furnace-blast Hath perish'd, save one man alone Who far in sudden fear hath flown: But with a gleam of new-born thought A second flame he soon hath wrought Only to tramp it down, aware At last that no dead god lies there, Or one for whom no man need care. He looks around to see some god, And far upon the fire-scorch'd sod He sees his brown-burnt tribesmen lie, And thinks their voices fill the sky, And dreads some unseen sudden blow -- And even as I watch him, lo, My savage-self I seem to know. And dreaming so I live my dream: I see a flood of moonlight gleam Between vast ancient oaks, and round A rough-hewn altar on the ground Weird Druid priests are gathered While through their midst a man is led With face that is already dead: A low chant swells throughout the wood, Then comes a solemn interlude Ere loudlier rings dim aisles along Some ancient sacrificial song; Before the fane the victim kneels And without sound he forward reels When the priest's knife the death-blow deals: The moonlight falls upon his face, His blood is spatter'd o'er the place, But now he is ev'n as a flow'r Uprooted in some tempest hour, Dead, but whose seed shall elsewhere grow: And as I look upon him, lo, Some old ancestral-self I know. Thus far dreams bring mysteriously Visions of past lives back to me; Visions alone perhaps they are, Each one a wandering futile star Flash'd o'er the mental firmament, -- Yet may be thus in past times went My soul in gradual ascent. None sees the slow sure upward sweep By which the soul from life-depths deep Ascends -- unless, mayhap, when free With each new death we backward see The long perspective of our race, Our multitudinous past lives trace Since first as breath of God through space Each came, and filled the lowest thing With life's faint pulse scarce quivering; So ever onward upward grew, And ever with each death-birth knew An old sphere left, a mystic change -- A sense of exaltation strange Thus through a myriad lives to range. But even in our mortal lives At times the eager spirit strives To gain through subtle memories Some hint of life's past mysteries -- Brief moments they, that flash before Bewilder'd eyes some scene of yore, Some vivid hour returned once more. Swift through the darken'd clouds of sense A sudden lightning-gleam intense Reveals some glimpse of the long past, Some memory comes back at last -- And yet 'twas but a sudden strain Of song -- a scent -- a sound of rain -- Some trifle -- made all clear again. With a swift glance such glimpses come And go -- but there are times for some When keen the vision is, so keen That thenceforth the indelible scene Remains within the mind for aye, Some reminiscence sad or gay, Some action of a bygone day. Thus came to me memorious gleams From the closed past, no sleep-brought dreams But revelations flashed out swift Upon the mind: a sudden lift Of the dense cloud of all past years, -- A moment when the thrilling ears Heard, or the eyes slow filled with tears. Thus has there flashed across my sight A desert in a blinding light Of scorching sun, a dreary waste Of burning sand where seldom paced The swift, gaunt camels with their freight Of merchandise, but where the weight Of silence lay inviolate. There a few sterile rocks lay white In the sun's glare, a band by might Of old convulsions thither hurl'd In the far days of the young world: And in their midst a hollow cave Was cleft, where dwelt, as in a grave, One who came thence his soul to save. Young, and from out the joyous strife Of men he came to this drear life: No more for him the wine's swift spell, No more for him love's miracle -- But bitter as the dead sea's dust Seem'd all past joys -- dread things to thrust Aside, all equally accursed. In fervid prayer all day he sought God's grace: in dreams at night he fought The fierce temptations born of youth. Awake, he strove to reach God's truth -- Asleep, he felt his passions rise And darken all the heav'nly skies With dread deceitful lovely lies. Thus year by year he fell and rose In endless conflict, till his woes Fill'd all his days with burning tears And dreadful never-ending fears: Haggard he grew from scanty food, With sun and blast and shelter rude And terrors of his lonelihood. With long hair streaming out behind He raced before the burning wind, With wild insane strained eyes alert For demons lurking to his hurt -- And though the sun beat fiercely hot Upon the sands, he heeded not But like a wand'ring shadow shot Across the burning level waste, Oft shouting as he wildly raced "My body is in hell, but I, Its soul, thus hither speed and cry To God to blow me as a leaf From out this agony of grief, To slay, and give me death's relief!" Oft as he fled, with from his mouth The white froth blown thro' maddening drought, He pass'd the crouching lion's lair -- But when his shrill laugh fill'd the air The desert monarch shrank, as though He feared this raving shadow's woe, This haggard wretch with eyes aglow. But when the sun sank past the west The hermit fled the desert, lest God's eyes should lose him in the night, And foes Satanic guide his flight Till soul and body once again Made one should with the pangs of twain, In hell for ever writhe in pain. But when sleep came to him he lay In peace, and oft a smile would play Upon his face as though once more In dreams he lived his life of yore, -- The life he did himself dismiss, The old sweet time of joy and bliss, -- Heard laughter, or felt some loved kiss. Thus have I seen, and seeing known That he who lived afar alone, A hermit on a dreary waste, Was even that soul mine eyes have traced Through brute and savage steadily, That he even now is part of me Just as a wave is of the sea. * * * * Far out across the deep doth swell The hoarse boom of the Black-Rock bell, A heavy moan monotonous, An inner sea-sound ominous, As though throughout the ocean there Relentless Conscience aye did bear A bitter message of despair. Still sweeps the old impetuous sea Around the green earth ceaselessly -- Changeless, yet full of change, it seems The very mirror of those dreams We call men's lives -- for are not they Like life-sea waves Fate's winds doth sway And break, yet which pass not away Through depth of silent air, but blend Once more with the deep and lend Their never dying music sweet To the great choral song complete; Each death is but a birth, a change -- Each soul through myriad by-ways strange, Through birth and death, doth upward range. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HALL OF OCEAN LIFE by JOHN HOLLANDER JULY FOURTH BY THE OCEAN by ROBINSON JEFFERS BOATS IN A FOG by ROBINSON JEFFERS CONTINENT'S END by ROBINSON JEFFERS |
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