These errors loved no less than the saint loves arrows Repeat, Love has left the world. He is not here. O God, like Love revealing yourself in absence So that, though farther than stars, like Love that sorrows In separation, the desire in the heart of hearts To come home to you makes you most manifest. The booming zero spins as his halo where Ashes of pride on all the tongues of sense Crown us with negatives. O deal us in our deserts The crumb of falling vanity. It is eucharist. Everyone walking everywhere goes in a glow Of geometrical progression, all meteors, in praise: Hosannas on the tongues of the dumb shall raise Roads for the gangs in chains to return to God. They go hugging the traumas like halleluias To the bodies that earn this beautitude. The Seven Seas they crowd like the great sailing clippers, Those homing migrants that, with their swallow-like sails set, Swayed forward along the loneliness that opposed, For nothing more than a meeting in heaven. Therefore all things, in all three tenses, Alone like the statue in an alcove of love, Moving in obedient machinery, sleeping Happy in impossible achievements, keeping Close to each other because the night is dark; The great man dreaming on the stones of circumstances, The small wringing hands because rocks will not move: The beast in its red kingdom, the star in its arc: O all things, therefore, in shapes or in senses, Know that they exist in the kiss of his Love. Incubus. Anaesthetist with glory in a bag, Foreman with a sweatbox and a whip. Asphyxiator Of the ecstatic. Sergeant with a grudge Against the lost lovers in the park of creation, Fiend behind the fiend behind the fiend behind the Friend. Mastodon with mastery, monster with an ache At the tooth of the ego, the dead drunk judge: Wheresover Thou art our agony will find Thee Enthroned on the darkest altar of our heartbreak Perfect. Beast, brute, bastard. O dog my God! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EXPOSED NEST by ROBERT FROST BY THE FIRESIDE by ROBERT BROWNING THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 23 by THOMAS CAMPION MY AIN COUNTRIE by MARY LEE DEMAREST THE END OF IT by FRANCIS THOMPSON ON THOSE THAT HATED 'THE PLAYBOY OF THE WESTERN WORLD' by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |