Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE AWAKENING SOUL, by PERCY STICKNEY GRANT Poet's Biography First Line: As a new spirit grieving Last Line: That smooth the onward road. Subject(s): Psyche (mythology) | ||||||||
I As a new spirit grieving, Heaven's hosts are just receiving, Pure from cold Death's dumb shrieving, Peers through the City gate; In spite of her fresh wonder At sight of that life yonder, Her wish for earth flames fonder For one now desolate. II She longs for earth and turning, Looks down where tears are burning, Where laughter and love's yearning Mix in the stream of life. Where shade the sun enlaces, Where flesh a soul encases, Where dust a god embraces, And man is joined to wife. III The arms death loosed still bind her With bridal sweet reminder, And the young years behind her, Until strange soft tears flow. Although a spirit gleams she, Again a woman seems she, Until God's angel deems she Can then no farther go. IV So Psyche feels the motion Of forces deep as ocean; Strong, strange, sweet as love's potion, -- Earth's pulses from the past: The smell of soil and flowers, Bare bathing in warm showers, All fair things once her dowers In thousand strange forms cast. V She looks down in dejection, Bowed by the stern perfection Of human, high election To life beyond the brute. She loves her older being, -- So blind to heaven, -- but seeing All life in sense agreeing, -- All love, though love be mute. VI She is the crystal's clearness, Dense matter purged of blearness, Will, moulding a new nearness, To man's mind and to God's. She is the cavern's brightness, The frost and snow's starred whiteness, The cataract's frozen lightness; But ever upward plods. VII She is the lotus-flower, Slime-born, but rich in dower To pierce, with prescient power Through every element. Through mud she blindly passes; Waves' cool, translucent glasses, Past dreaming water grasses, To sunlight's gold content. VIII Free, free, she cleaves the water, But flees as if death sought her, For freedom sadly taught her To fear and watch for foes. She sounds dark depths or lashes Blue waves to foam, or dashes Out of her world and flashes In heaven that no life knows. IX She is a serpent coiling, Envenomed and entoiling All life, or all life soiling At whose kiss all things die. She is the lark in heaven, Hymning the planets seven, At dewy dawn or even -- Earth's passion winged on high. X She feels the rough surrender Of flesh to impulse tender, That mate and cub engender, In jungles deep and dark. She knows her own strength matches The wild, lithe play she watches, For each fierce thing she catches She strikes and it is stark. XI She is mankind's great mother Men conscious serve each other, Now call a God their brother, And change the world's rough face. But Psyche on life ponders, Pries secrets from all wonders, In prayer the beast life sunders, And clears for mind more space. XII Fear flesh? 'Tis no temptation, Sing soul in exultation This heaven of creation, All beauty wrapped in one. Tint, touch? A rose's petal, Past marble or mined metal To match, wherein is set all Of grace all love has spun. XIII Does conscience's birth distress you, God's constant voice oppress you, Remorse in mourning dress you, Till you wish God were not? Be patient with your weakness, God will not crush your meekness, Forsake you in stark bleakness, With all your good forgot. XIV As leaves laugh in September, Which fierce gales would dismember, Leaves dead before December, Now clasp each tossing bough; And bend, sway, roar with laughter, At the mad wind rushing after, Though it shake roof and rafter, It cannot strip them now. XV Laugh ye at hostile forces, Unpent from lower sources, To war on your high courses, And watch for your weak hour. Laugh! Hug life as a passion, In spite of foes that dash on, Live in heroic fashion Souls over death must tower. XVI Your days are short, so hasten, O architect and mason Of life, to help the race on By buildings vast and free; A palace for all people, No roof but stars its steeple, Where love and justice leap all Lower tyranny. XVII Say not that God sees weeping, And wakes not from His sleeping When man in sin is steeping, In sin, lean want and care; So I will be as God is, Men shall be as the clod is, My hand hard as the rod is, No tears shall soften prayer. XVIII For God's tears are your own tears, And God's care but your own fears, Yes, God's pain what your soul bears Of this world's weary load. God mourns in your heart broken, God loves in your fond token, God speaks when prayers are spoken That smooth the onward road. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PHYCHE'S DREAM by ANN LAUTERBACH MESSAGE FROM THE SLEEPER AT HELL'S MOUTH: 6. ONESELF AT HELL'S MOUTH by ALICIA SUSKIN OSTRIKER PSYCHE by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER A VIGNETTE by CAROLINE KING DUER PSYCHE by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE PYSCHE BORNE BY ZEPHYRS TO THE ISLAND OF PLEASURE by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS A CALL TO PRAYER by PERCY STICKNEY GRANT |
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