Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE REED, by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE REED, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: As when the poet, muttering low
Last Line: "come,"" said she, ""sing thy reed-song through the world."
Subject(s): Civilization; Criticism & Critics; Justice; Music & Musicians; Nations; Poetry & Poets; United States; America


AS when the poet, muttering low,
Doth feel his blood prophetic flow,
And reaches with his hand
For some diviner instrument
To give the coming music vent,
My hands moved to and fro.

"O Face Divine that bent over my youth
With sweet, victorious, battle-quick breath,
Who sealed on my lips the love of truth,
And taught my childhood the lore of death,
And I caught from thy bosom the glow and the lift
Of thoughts whereon I heavenward drift, --
Spirit of Justice, purest and best
Of the powers that spring from the human breast,
What is thy will?" I murmured low.
"I see thee sweep thy robe from the land;
As one fain to go I see thee stand,
And I, too, am fain to go."

She looked as one who sees in pain
His armies waste away in vain
And from the lost field turns;
His plans o'erthrown, ambitions fled,
Glory obscured, and comrades dead, --
His bosom darkly burns.

"Thou hadst a reed," she said;
"Its notes were battle-born;
I would hear if its dumb stops keep
Some echoes of its morn.
Sing me the hosting music
Of men who march to death;
Bring me the reed of thy boyhood, --
Though it holds but a little breath,
I shall hear on its faintest flute-note
The feet of a million men;
It was a curious instrument,
And seemed both sword and pen."

I took the reed I threw away;
I tried again its music rude;
A blush came over the laurel spray,
And the eagle rose from the wood;
And the reed, as 'twere from a brazen throat,
With my boyhood breath blew a trumpet-note:

"Peace be with God! armies and fleet,
Marshal them, launch them, after my feet,
Who am gone to the field where dying is sweet!
Youth, all the land over,
Your manhood discover!
Part, maiden and lover!
Swords, over the border to the realms of disorder!
In the shadow of war sleeps the fate of all lands;
I am Justice, -- the web of the world in my hands."

"Lo!" she said, "where the loud cannon spoke for the cause,
Half over the land the silenced laws!
Shall they bind with a pact the realms abroad,
Who maintain not the bond on their native sod?
What noble assizes Americans make
With bloodhound and rifle, the noose and the stake!
The strength of his arm is the taskmaster's creed;
How long will laboring millions bleed!
They mind ill the lesson of times gone by, --
When the silence is deepest, 'ware Truth's war-cry!
And the rich man's gift with his lavish gold
Is children's children to usury sold.
War hath its crimes, which may time decrease!
The crimes universal are crimes of peace."

Like a hand-fast child I held to the flute;
Deathly wan were her cheeks;
Fain was I to be understood,
As one who stammering speaks.
I pressed the reed to my mouth;
I spent my kiss of fire;
The little stem enraptured shook
With the glory of the lyre:

"With the popular breath the planet
This way and that may roll;
I am the Master of empires,
I am the Lord of the soul.
Throne whom they will in the churches,
Crown whom they may in the school,
Who obeyeth me is the Christian,
Who denieth me is the fool.
I buried Egypt at daybreak;
I doomed Nineveh and Rome;
The starry spear of Paris
Late drove my judgment home.
With ships and arms let nations
Steel hard their cities and coasts;
One word of the lonely Truth-teller
Lords it o'er fleets and hosts.
My heralds summon Asia;
I mine the Muscovite;
My Peace, my War, are equal powers,
The left hand and the right."

"Ah, here," she said, "how was my coming sweet,
And o'er all other lands was this land dear!
I thought to fix my everlasting seat
Hereon, and stay my world-wide wandering here."

Full heavily she leaned upon that lance
Which through the sides of nations makes its way;
Then saw I in her eyes a light advance
As 'twere the flaming majesty of day.

I blew; on that weird flute
Seemed coming from afar
The trample of all human feet
That ever trod this star;
Hard on Turanian rock,
And desert-soft on sands,
Poured the innumerable footfall
Of the children of all lands:

"Not for a single age,
Not for a favored land,
Not for a separate race,
Was heavenly Justice planned;
But destined to one fold
Of science, art, and love,
Are the wandering peoples all
And every soul thereof.
Lo! where the old East flames,
How great a light hath broke!
Lo! what a burden falls
From Allah's patient folk!
Their feet are many millions
Who toward light traveling are,
Where world-wide beams thy promise
From Freedom's morning star.
Come, though grief be thy portion,
And war thy housemate be,
Thou canst not build on less than man,
Nor man on less than thee."

I rose, still fluting in the dark,
And to her side drew nigh,
And all the while new stars spread out
The interminable sky:

"Through many thousand ages
May man's ideal refine!
Yet here in nature's periods
The brute shows half divine,
Who thinks that he who loves the most,
And most denies his lust,
Who giveth all and taketh nought --
Only that man is just.
And still we dream beyond this truth
What deeper glories lie;
Come, Justice, teach mankind to live,
Teach nations how to die!"

On that dark strand she bent her head full low,
Far down, and with her tears my hand impearled,
And drew it into hers, and led me forth, --
"Come," said she, "sing thy reed-song through the world."





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