THE SONG OF THE NEW COMMUNITIES by WILSON PUGSLEY MACDONALD

I HEAR the sound of the breaking of glass,
The crushing of stone, the falling of bridges,
The hurrying of people to and fro.
I see the last Reactionary sitting upon a pile of dead men
Which his own hands have slain,
And hear him plead to save his soulless flesh.

Then I stand in the midst of a great, beautiful silence,
And I hear the calmness broken by the marching of distant feet,
And out of the Unknown comes a magnificent host,
Sun-helmed, and leaning on the staff of the wind;
And these are the men who shall make the New Communities.

And they shall come without sword in either hand;
And their garb shall be as humble as the gray of the wren,
But their songs shall come down the spiral stair of the nightingale:
Their feet shall be shod with sandals, scented
With the pungent beauty of the paths they pursue;
They shall separate and each man shall go to his own acre,
And, wherever they go, the yellow corn to the young dawn shall sing.

In that day shall the cities shrivel and the iron rust,
And the picture-houses shall lock up their doors;
The flaming magazines will cease to oil their presses,
The gramophones will hush their gnawing voices;
And no flag shall fly to separate the wind
Or to keep the tide of peoples apart.
And gold and silver shall be then no more;
And the fools shall call in their ships from the air,
And the pleasure motors from the highways;
And men shall walk, as Enoch walked, with God.

Now do we see the materialist almost at the summit of his power:
Then shall we see him on his last couch of gold.
Even now he goes over the dizzy heights
To the quick pathway of his sure descent --
And when he goes only his kind shall mourn.
But not until after he is gone shall the hand hold charity,
The brow burn wisdom, the foot scatter kindness,
Or the yellow corn sing freely to the young dawn.

In the New Community all shall be given cloth for their garments, --
Which may be fashioned after the wearer's own taste,
But no one shall add to these garments, or exchange,
Lest the old idolatry of ribbon and beads return.
Then will the eye go searching for the soul
In every passing mortal, and comradeship shall be chosen
From preference for one weave of spirit over another;
And none shall crave for jewels, for all shall see
The finger's tapering beauty and the neck's white, sloping charm
Formed in the image of an unjewelled God.

And the youths, who now so unevenly
Start in the race of life, shall toe a line together;
And privilege will come to none or to all,
And knowledge will not be whispered in favored ears
But from the housetops will it gladly speak.
Then shall the genius wear his crown of bays;
Then shall the studious gain his larger portion;
Then shall the dullard find no fair excuse,
And change his dullard ways for shame of men.

And there shall be no prisons in the New Communities,
For all who break the law are sick or rebels,
And here shall no cause for rebellion be found,
And the sick will be washed in a great sea of grass,
And their bodies shall be perfumed with wild flowers,
And the fingers of love will straighten their foreheads,
And the outcast look will be kissed away from their eyes.

And the tables in the New Communities will be spread with white linen,
With oaten cakes and figs and the honey-in-comb,
With greens that crisp in salad of the dew,
With nuts and red-cheeked apples, to make glad;
And the sun's rays alone shall serve the feast,
And pot and pan and oven shall be no more.

The lamb will no more look up wistfully at the descending axe
And the birds will sing blithely over the banquet-hall.
And none shall use unripened things or condiments;
And thirst shall call to the udder and the bubbling spring
And to the purple vineyards on the hillside;
And the feasters shall arise from the table with bright eyes,
Their breath shall be pure as the breath of the ox,
Their teeth shall be white as the teeth of savages,
Their blood shall make rose petals of their limbs.

In those days shall no rail be laid in all the world;
But the highways will be broadened and the roads smoothed to glass,
And all the motors will whirl in the public cause.
Then few things will be imported into any land:
The north shall send furs and grain to the south,
And the south shall send nuts and cotton and fruit to the north.
Then the grain will be crushed again between stones,
And the pecan-tree shall stand in every orchard --
And each community shall be a world unto itself,
And dress after its own pleasure and live after its own heart.

And in each community I see five great temples,
Like five great fountains flowing with moonbeams --
And their shining domes shall suck all the light from the moon
And leave it a bloodless thing in the morning sky.
The pillars of these temples shall lift nobility
Out of the grovelling soul, and their domes shall expand thought
And free her from her warped confines forever.
And the first temple shall echo with the feet of Pan;
And Terpsichore shall stand at the portals of the second,
With Euterpe, gowned in white rhythm, at her side;
And they who rob the rainbow shall slant their easels
In the unhindered beauty of the third;
And the fourth temple shall surround a solitary Cross,
Lest any man forget the price One paid
To lead the world up to the New Communities.
Then through a great doorway, made of stone and brass,
Shall we pass into the fifth temple, and, having passed,
Find ourselves domed with blue sky and comraded by trees
And cloaked with the spindrift of white, breaking waters;
And there shall each man walk sun-helmed,
And girdled with tall grasses and leaning on the staff of the wind.

And they shall walk without sword in either hand.
Their garb shall be humble as the gray of the wren,
But their songs shall come down the spiral stair of the nightingale;
Their feet shall be shod with sandals, scented
With the pungent beauty of the paths they pursue --
And, wherever they go, the yellow corn to the young dawn shall sing.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...