Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, APOCALYPSE, by RONALD ROSS


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

APOCALYPSE, by                    
First Line: The visions of the soul, more strange than dreams
Last Line: And drew him down. And the voice answer'd, so.
Subject(s): World War I; First World War


THE visions of the soul, more strange than dreams,
Out-mystery sleep. For them, no day redeems,
And the thing is, but is not as it seems.

I thought I saw (although I did not sleep)
A Raft that clomb the surges black and steep
With One who cursed the dumb God-blinded Deep.

Red as the eye of anger the Sun set;
And giant Thunders round him, black as jet,
Gazed down into those black Deeps they beset;

And under them and mirroring them, a scud
Of glassy mountains moved athwart the flood,
Laced by that last gleam with a foam of blood.

Then he who lived upon that desperate craft,
Crown'd and a King, stood forth and kinglike quaff'd
Red wine, and raised his voice aloud, and laugh'd:

"Roll on and rot for all thy corpses, Sea,
That with thy moonsuck'd surges wouldest be
Lord of the halycon Earth, thine enemy—

With altercations of great waves and air,
And sobs and cries of anger, wouldest tear
Piecemeal her patient fields and all things there.

Ungovernable god, thee I defy,
Weak man. Canst thou for all thy rage reply?" ...
Then from beneath there came the answer, Aye.

He heard, but deem'd his thought replied to thought
And cried again aloud (the red ray caught
His crown of gold with flaming rubies wrought):

"Improvident, furious, idle, hot to hate
Laborious Earth—her unlaborious mate,
Strong but in anger, in destruction great:

Her fields and floods, where flow'rs are grown and glass'd;
Thine, where thy mad waves run like things outcast,
And scarce the staggering petrel braves the blast,

And no flowers blow but capering crests of spray:
Confess thyself a god who can but slay." ...
But from the deeps the deep Voice answer'd, Nay.

Half startled, still in reverie unaware,
He cried again as one who mocks despair;
And still the surges roll'd and rock'd him there:

"Then rumble in all thy depths, Leviathan,
And learn my scorn—thy master and a man.
So answer me if thou art more and can." ...

There came a thrill, a spasm, as when the blow
Of earthquake runs before the crash, and lo
The dreadful Voice cried Silence from below.

He heard, he rose, he laugh'd as if in jest,
And drank red wine. (The red ray came to rest
Within the blood-red ruby on his breast):

Art thou then there, down there, O damnèd dumb
Bold braggard, born to threaten yet succumb—
For ever overcoming e'er o'ercome?

What though thou roarest, still I will not bow
To thee, all-mighty, my God-gifted brow;
A mortal; yet, immortal, more than thou."

So said. Night fell. But from the deep below
A giant Hand emerged, enormous, slow;
And drew him down. And the Voice answer'd, So.





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