Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ODE, by ELISE AYLEN


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ODE, by                    
First Line: Here where a new life stirs and broods
Last Line: Alone, uncomforted.
Alternate Author Name(s): Scott, Duncan Cambpell, Mrs.


Here where a new life stirs and broods,
In reaching plain or closing woods,
By river or wayside
What god has lived or died?

Did prophet ever, god-intent,
To these rough hills make long ascent,
And lonely at the even
Watch and speak with Heaven?

By the chill pine-held northern lake
Cowed in the wind the thin reeds shake,
But not upon these reeds
Breathed Pan his sorrows' needs.

Not here the wind-lured Psyche slept,
Not here Demeter searched and wept,
In her sore wandering,
Bare-footed, sorrowing.

Rude from the garth, in regions far,
Of old the Volsungs met for war;
Keen to a distant sky
Rang Brynhild's battle-cry.

And where the low moon at the even
Drooped lotus-like on the still heaven,
In paths all blossom-hung
Walked Krishna bringing song.

Where Dana keeps her ancient mood,
Bound by pale seas in bitter flood,
By a grey coast and drear
Fled the swan sons of Lir.

Through our grim pines what god has strayed,
At some wood-spring his thirst allayed,
Or held strange tryst undaunted
In hollows spirit-haunted?

Was there god-head, dusk and eerie,
Star-begotten on the prairie,
Where by the lodge-fire yet
Wild hearts may not forget?

Sad remnant of the haggard bands
Who hopeless rove the outmost lands,
And wait in night and storm
For some lost wizard form.

You who have known the lonely earth,
In sombre ways of death and birth
Stark from a heart unscanned
Give gods unto the land.

The dark wind sweeps the mournful plain,
And through the far waste comes again
An echo thinly heard,
Red scream of Thunderbird.

Vague whisperings from a misty age
When heaven was earth's heritage,
While vision lingered yet
In sunrise or sunset.

Gauntly in a world withdrawn
Kuloskap strode across the dawn,
And from a sullen shore
Darkly, in evil hour,

On the waves where hoarse gulls darted
Flung his kettle, and departed;
Left lonely the long sand—
Went god thus from the land?

The forests breathe their ancient word,
The rooted hills in rest unstirred
Give answer silently,
Instinct with mystery.

While strangely to the northern skies,
From lake to lake the wild loon cries,
Shrill from its hidden bed,
Alone, uncomforted.





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