Sunbeam and storm-cloud over the wonderful Sea, whereupon ships labour and mariners Hope and despair, while safe in haven Weavers of dream by the wayside wander Whose hands know not the oar, nor their eyes endure Insurgent ocean. Nevertheless, they live Not vainly, if at heart their dreams be One with the heart of the world forever. Long since, an unknown Maker of Images Walked where the shore looms high before Pergamon Fronting the sea. And while he dreamed there, Suddenly over the bright horizon Fell darkness. Birds cried out, flying heavily Down the wind. Blue gloom, swallowing sail by sail, Swung landward. The tall meadow-grasses Swayed like the mane of a beast in anger Arousing.... Then one glare, and a thunderbolt Cracked, and the world went out into colourless Ruin of rain, and sky and headland Blent with the spray of the plunging ocean. Meanwhile, amazed, the Maker of Images Clung to the cliff. Then rose; and at eventide, Through dew-sweet fields and rain-washed woodland Wandered, as one having seen a vision, Homeward, without speech. And for many days Carved on the new-raised altar of Pergamon What he had seen: yet not the unmeaning Welter of cloud over storm-torn water, But warfare of white gods, the Olympians, Against the Earth-Born: Zeus, thunder-panoplied, Pallas, and Ares, and Poseidon Ranging the van of his windy legions, -- While underneath, vain Giants in agony Piled mountains; and alone, understanding all, Foam-bosomed Aphrodite smiled down Quietly, out of the heights above them. Storms pass. Untold suns, glooms beyond numbering, Vanish. The unchanging pageant elaborates, And kingdoms fail, and strange commanders Govern imperial generations Of momentary dust; and the pyramid Follows the prince where, emulous, tremulous, Like motes along the moonbeam dancing Into the dark, the Enchanter changes Men, and the deeds of men. Yet through centuries Gone, since before that altar, adoringly With arms upraised, the Pergamaeans Gazed, and grew stronger of heart beholding, Their dreams remain. Still, still, as a thousand years Embody June, so now and forevermore New lamps, new eyes, one light undying Hold, and reveal in a thousand rainbows. All gods of all times fight for us, laugh with us; Forgotten angels cool our delirium; Vague monsters from primeval caverns Widen the wondering eyes of children; And knights of old, high-hearted adventurers, Ride errant with us, making a tournament Of toil; and new-hung moons remember Passion and pang of imagined lovers Whose perfumed souls in blossomy silences Hunger, forlorn: Adonis, Endymion, Brynhild, Elaine, Ysolde, Helen, -- Names like the touch of the lips that loved them, -- And brazen-handed heroes who sang as they Charged home against impregnable destiny Clang trumpets in our wars; and saints leave Lilies of peace by the lonely highway. Pray therefore that, ourselves being treasurers Of beauty brought from Eden, ephemeral Husbands of ageless Dawn, our dreams too Mould for a moment the gold immortal Not fouled by unclean hands, nor unworthily Shapen for gain; nor scorned, while idolaters Of deities unborn unwisely Gather barbarian toys of tinsel To flatter purblind eyes. But remembering The beautiful old gods, and the champions Of storied wars, and sylvan horn-calls Waking mysterious elfin laughter, -- We, in our own hour Makers of Images, Charm storm and day-dream into such harmony As men of deeds, beholding, long for, Forging the world into forms of heaven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPECIAL EFFECTS by JAMES GALVIN THEY HAVEN'T HEARD THE WEST IS OVER by JAMES GALVIN TAPS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ON THE PROPOSAL TO ERECT A MONUMENT IN ENGLAND TO LORD BYRON by EMMA LAZARUS SONG FOR A VIOLA D'AMORE by AMY LOWELL JOE HILL LISTENS TO THE PRAYING by KENNETH PATCHEN |