Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO APOLLO, by JOHN COWPER POWYS



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO APOLLO, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Luminous master of song and sunbeams
Last Line: Harlots and publicans enter in.
Subject(s): Apollo; Flowers; Mythology - Classical; Roses; Seasons; Singing & Singers; Soul


Luminous master of song and sunbeams,
Lord of the lyre and golden bow,
Stoop from thy palace of light and save us,
Heal, Apollo, our mortal woe.
Life to thee was a blush of morning
Purpling proudly each pensive hill,
Life to thee was a revel of roses,
And all the honey their hearts distil.

Still there rise from our mortal darkness,
Moonlit clouds from a midnight gloom,
Prayers for a breath of thy larger ether;
Break, Apollo, our earthly tomb!
Not one touch of our low lives' baseness,
Not one stain of our sordid strife,
Mars the peace of thy cloudless forehead,
Blurs the calm of thy conquering life.

Freedom of oceans, and freshness of flowers,
Glamour of sunbeams thy great heart sway,
Heats of flushed June, and sweet slumbers of Autumn,
Blent with the lilt and the laughter of May.
Thine is the magic of Painter and Poet,
Thine are the secrets of prophet and mage,
Kingship alone, and the right to bestow it,
Glory of youth and the wisdom of age.

Born 'mid the smiles of the playtime of nations,
Born 'mid the shout of the world's glad youth,
Free is thy soul from the torment of seeking,
Veil behind veil for the temple of Truth;
Pure art thou as the pearls of the rainbow,
Unashamed as the wind and the foam,
Spurring by day the bright steeds of the morning,
Sleeping by night in thy bastion'd home.

Deep we grovel in godless passion,
Cling with our souls to the world's dull clay,
Clothe us in creeds and the folly of fashion,
Heed not the rising or setting of day.
Only for gold of an effortless Heaven
Leave we our lusts, and relinquish our gains,
Base in desire, and base in repression,
Cleave to our pleasures and shrink from our pains;
Grant us a dower, O Delian Apollo,
Dole us a boon of thy love and thy hate;
Give us to strike at the Python of priesthoods,
Give us to vanquish the furies of Fate.

Ah, but one gift and the best thou art lacking,
Luminous Master of sunbeams and song,
Godlike Anger is great, but greater
Godlike Pity for human wrong.
Not at thy throne, in its sorrow and anguish,
Not at thy throne, in its weakness and sin,
Kneeleth the world, but at His who has bidden
Harlots and publicans enter in.





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