Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE CRY OF THE HUMAN, by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING Poem Explanation Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: There is no god,' the foolish saith Last Line: Be pitiful, o god. Variant Title(s): Convinced By Sorrow Subject(s): Religion; Theology | ||||||||
"THERE is no God," the foolish saith, But none, "There is no sorrows"; And nature oft the cry of faith In bitter need will borrow: Eyes which the preacher could not school, By wayside graves are raised; And lips say, "God be pitiful," Who ne'er said, "God be praised." Be pitiful, O God! The tempest stretches from the steep The shadow of its coming; The beasts grow tame, and near us creep, As help were in the human: Yet while the cloud-wheels roll and grind We spirits tremble under! -- The hills have echoes; but we find No answer for the thunder. Be pitiful, O God! The battle hurtles on the plains -- Earth feels new scythes upon her: We reap our brothers for the wains, And call the harvest, honor, -- Draw face to face, front line to line, One image all inherit, -- Then kill, curse on, by that same sign, Clay, clay, -- and spirit, spirit. Be pitiful, O God! The plague runs festering through the town, And nearer a bell is tolling: And corpses jostled 'neath the moon, Nod to the dead-cart's rolling. The young child calleth for the cup -- The strong man brings it weeping; The mother from her babe looks up, And shrieks away its sleeping. Be pitiful, O God! The plague of gold strides far and near, And deep and strong it enters: This purple chimar which we wear, Makes madder than the centaur's. Our thoughts grow blank, our words grow strange; We cheer the pale gold-diggers -- Each soul is worth so much on 'Change, And marked, like sheep, with figures. Be pitiful, O God! The curse of gold upon the land, The lack of bread enforces -- The rail-cars snort from strand to strand, Like more of Death's White Horses: The rich preach "rights" and future days, And hear no angel scoffing: The poor die mutes -- with starving gaze On corn-ships in the offing. Be pitiful, O God! We meet together at the feast -- To private mirth besake us -- We stare down in the winecup lest Some vacant chair should shake us! We name delight, and pledge it round -- "It shall be ours to-morrow!" God's seraphs, do your voices sound As sad in naming sorrow? Be pitiful, O God! We sit together, with the skies, The steadfast skies, above us: We look into each other's eyes, "And how long will you love us?" The eyes grow dim with prophecy, The voice is low and breathless -- "Till death us part!" -- O words, to be Our best for love the deathless! Be pitiful, dear God! We tremble by the harmless bed Of one loved and departed -- Our tears drop on the lids that said Last night, "Be stronger hearted!" O God, -- to clasp those fingers close, And yet to feel so lonely! -- To see a light upon such brows, Which is the daylight only! Be pitiful, O God! The happy children come to us, And look up in our faces: They ask us -- Was it thus, and thus, When we were in their places? We cannot speak: -- we see anew The hills we used to live in; And feel our mother's smile press through The kisses she is giving. Be pitiful, O God! We pray together at the kirk, For mercy, mercy, solely -- Hands weary with the evil work, We lift them to the Holy! The corpse is calm below our knee -- Its spirit bright before thee -- Between them, worse than either, we -- Without the rest of glory! Be pitiful, O God! We leave the communing of men, The murmur of the passions; And live alone, to live again With endless generations. Are we so brave? -- The sea and sky In silence lift their mirrors; And, glassed therein, our spirits high Recoil from their own terrors. Be pitifull, O God! We sit on hills our childhood wist, Woods, hamlets, streams, beholding: The sun strikes through the farthest mist, The city's spire to golden. The city's golden spire it was, When hope and health were strong; But now it is the churchyard glass, We look upon the longest. Be pitiful, O God! And soon all vision waxeth dull -- Men whisper, "He is dying": We cry no more, "Be pitiful!" -- We have no strength for crying: No strength, no need! Then, Soul of mine, Look up and triumph rather -- Lo! in the depth of God's Divine, The Son adjures the Father -- Be pitiful, O God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MYSTIC BOUNCE by TERRANCE HAYES MATHEMATICS CONSIDERED AS A VICE by ANTHONY HECHT UNHOLY SONNET 11 by MARK JARMAN SHINE, PERISHING REPUBLIC by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE COMING OF THE PLAGUE by WELDON KEES A LITHUANIAN ELEGY by ROBERT KELLY A CHILD'S THOUGHT OF GOD by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |
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