Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MEDITATION, by RUTH L. TEISSEDRE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MEDITATION, by                    
First Line: I hear the chapel bell again
Last Line: Now a walking prayer to an unknown god.
Subject(s): Consolation; Meditation; Remorse; Sin


I hear the chapel bell again
Falling light as springtime rain
Dripping on my heart in pain
For I, the rain have forsaken.
The rain is of the earthly scheme
That molds the world in fleshly theme
Of fleshly things I can but dream
From me, my liberty is taken.

A sinner there was and a sinner there lives
In the vale where the moon stood still.
A man who with soul of bitterness gives
His prayers to his god as he will.
Hypocrite! Liar and traitor am I!
Nor can any amount of regret
Wipe out the pictures burned into my soul
Lord! You know I've tried to forget!
It isn't so much that I've fasted and prayed
But you know, in your all-seeing way
That the hardest of all the debt that I've paid
Were the hours of drink and of play.

When every wanton held close to my breast
Was an uglier vision of lips I had pressed.
Lips I thought pure till I found them out,
Virgin, I thought. Ha! Now I could shout
To the stands of the earth and her lovers would hear
The name of the woman they once held dear!
The woman who loved, and kissed and was gone,
Leaving love-blest night and a bitter dawn.

Then my heart led me with a measured step
To the house at the foot of the hill
Where faces and voices were silent kept
And the occupants thrived on the thrill
Of a prayer well whispered, a duty done,
A sacred table laid bare,
A cell and a soul from its body gone
To climb the golden stair.

I watched and wondered and marveled that they
Lived there thus peaceful and calm,
And I vowed that for sensual sins I would pay—
Work for my softened palm,
Work for my body made white with the life
Of a man who loved laughter well,
And I entered that house at the foot of the hill,
Unknowingly entered I—Hell.

I take up the Book for consolation.
"O Lord consider my meditation
Rebuke me not in thine indignation
But forgive thou me, a sinner!"
But prayers that fall from an empty heart
Will not concession from heaven start.
Did I say empty? A pain-thronged mart
Set up in the soul of a sinner.

For hours are long and days are years
In the chapel built for the Saviour's tears.
My heart shrieks out that I'm going mad
Fettered to pace so slow and sad
Tied to such goodness! Such holiness pure!
While my mind rebels with a faith unsure
Uncertain of God or heaven or hell
Knowing only desire! That knowing too well!
O unfaithful love! A heart that writhes
Surrenders to you these exacting tithes—
A soul, a flesh that will soon be sod:
Now a walking prayer to an unknown god.





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