Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE HOPE OF THE WORLD, by WILLIAM WATSON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Higher than heaven they sit Last Line: Who know not whence I am sped, nor to what port I sail. Alternate Author Name(s): Watson, John William Subject(s): Religion; Theology | ||||||||
I HIGHER than heaven they sit, Life and her consort Law; And One whose countenance lit In mine more perfect awe, Fain had I deemed their peer, Beside them throned above: Ev'n him who casts out fear, Unconquerable Love. Ah, 'twas on earth alone that I his beauty saw. II On earth, in homes of men, In hearts that crave and die. Dwells he not also, then, With Godhead, throned on high? This and but this I know: His face I see not there: Here find I him below, Nor find him otherwhere; Born of an aching world, Pain's bridegroom, Death's ally. III Did Heaven vouchsafe some sign That through all Nature's frame Boundless ascent benign Is everywhere her aim, Such as man hopes it here, Where he from beasts hath risen, -- Then might I read full clear, Ev'n in my sensual prison, That Life and Law and Love are one symphonious name. IV Such sign hath Heaven yet lent? Nay, on this earth, are we So sure 'tis real ascent And very gain we see? 'Gainst Evil striving still, Some spoils of war we wrest: Not to discover Ill Were haply state as blest. We vaunt, o'er doubtful foes, a dubious victory. V In cave and bosky dene Of old there crept and ran The gibbering form obscene That was and was not man. The desert beasts went by In fairer covering clad; More speculative eye The couchant lion had, And goodlier speech the birds, than we when we began. VI Was it some random throw Of heedless Nature's die, That from estate so low Uplifted man so high? Through untold aeons vast She let him lurk and cower: 'Twould seem he climbed at last In mere fortuitous hour, Child of a thousand chances 'neath the indifferent sky. VII A soul so long deferred In his blind brain he bore, It might have slept unstirred Ten million noontides more. Yea, round him Darkness might Till now her folds have drawn, O'er that enormous night So casual came the dawn, Such hues of hap and hazard Man's Emergence wore! VIII If, then, our rise from gloom Hath this capricious air, What ground is mine to assume An upward process there, In yonder worlds that shine From alien tracts of sky? Nor ground to assume is mine Nor warrant to deny. Equal, my source of hope, my reason for despair. IX And though within me here Hope lingers unsubdued, 'Tis because airiest cheer Suffices for her food! As some adventurous flower, On savage crag-side grown, Seems nourished hour by hour From its wild self alone, So lives inveterate Hope, on her own hardihood. X She tells me, whispering low: "Wherefore and whence thou wast, Thou shalt behold and know When the Great Bridge is crossed. For not in mockery He Thy gift of wondering gave, Nor bade thine answer be The blank stare of the grave. Thou shalt behold and know; and find again thy lost." XI With rapt eyes fixed afar, She tells me: "Throughout Space, Godward each peopled star Runs with thy Earth a race. Wouldst have the goal so nigh, The course so smooth a field, That Triumph should thereby One half its glory yield? And can Life's pyramid soar all apex and no base?" XII She saith: "Old dragons lie In bowers of pleasance curled; And dost thou ask me why? It is a Wizard's world! Enchanted princes these, Who yet their scales shall cast, And through his sorceries Die into kings at last. Ambushed in Winter's heart the rose of June is furled." XIII Such are the tales she tells: Who trusts, the happier he: But nought of virtue dwells In that felicity! I think the harder feat Were his who should withstand A voice so passing sweet, And so profuse a hand. -- Hope, I forgo the wealth thou fling'st abroad so free! XIV Carry thy largess hence, Light Giver! Let me learn To abjure the opulence I have done nought to earn; And on this world no more To cast ignoble slight, Counting it but the door Of other worlds more bright. Here, where I fail or conquer, here is my concern: XV Here, where perhaps alone I conquer or I fail. Here, o'er the dark Deep blown, I ask no perfumed gale; I ask the unpampering breath That fits me to endure Chance, and victorious Death, Life, and my doom obscure, Who know not whence I am sped, nor to what port I sail. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MYSTIC BOUNCE by TERRANCE HAYES MATHEMATICS CONSIDERED AS A VICE by ANTHONY HECHT UNHOLY SONNET 11 by MARK JARMAN SHINE, PERISHING REPUBLIC by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE COMING OF THE PLAGUE by WELDON KEES |
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