Classic and Contemporary Poetry
REMARKS TO THE BACK OF A PEW, by WILLIAM ROSE BENET Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: All this whining and repining! Last Line: It should be! Subject(s): Public Worship; Church Attendance | ||||||||
All this whining and repining! Oh good lack, All this blue-nosed, dismal wailing That the fount of faith is failing! Have ye all gone sick and ailing, Good my masters? Give me back But a laugh against my laughter, And forget a little while Your much-harped-upon "Hereafter" In a smile! From your pigeon-toed religion, Lord deliver One who never saw his Savior As a "model of behavior," But a man of might, who gave your Creeds full many a text to shiver Into bits your gravest thesis And your dearest dogma's blight. You can thank your own paresis If I'm right. While you're moaning of "atoning For our sins," Where old women sniff and mutter, There's bright sunlight through the shutter. How the wood-birds sing and flutter Round the church! A wind begins In the ivy-leaves, all glistening With the early morning sun. "Saith the preacher --" . . . I'm not listening. Have you done? You're the cynics, with your clinics On the soul! While you fumble facts and rumble, Is it easy to be humble, When I hear, through all your mumble, God's own anthems rise and roll Round the outcast Unforgiven Yester-morning damned by -- you! -- As the highest gates of Heaven Pass them through! Here's my severance from your reverance For the smug. While the human's so endearing, While all nature is revering One glad God, with naught of "fearing," Shall I rock myself, and hug All my "goodness" safe inside me, 'Twixt four walls and once a week? God Himself would first deride me, Saying, "Seek!" Oh, what psalter round the altar Of the East, With wild dawn the winds upchoir! With what prayer the sunset's pyre Smokes to heaven! And what desire For pure Truth that pale, sad priest Of blue heaven, the moon, illumines When the candle stars burn bright! What sweet dreams God sends for omens Through the night! There, as ever, I shall never Cease to kneel, In God's true church, life, -- adoring All its wonder, and imploring, Of His grace, for joy upsoaring O'er all pangs that hurt and heal. Teach me such Thy true salvation, God of strength through joy set free, As Thou meant'st from the creation It should be! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WHEELING GOSPEL TABERNACLE by JAMES WRIGHT GIRLS GOING TO CHURCH by JOHN CIARDI EFFECT OVER DISTANCE by ALBERT GOLDBARTH THE RESPECTABLE BURGHER, ON 'THE HIGHER CRITICISM' by THOMAS HARDY GOSPEL VILLANELLE by ANDREW HUDGINS SONG BEFORE SORROW by LOUISE A. BALDWIN WHITE SPIRITUAL by WILLIAM BERRY THE FALCONER OF GOD by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |
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