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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HERE IS MUSIC: 18 by AUSTIN PHILIPS

First Line: NOT LESS, BUT MORE
Last Line: WITH HOPE OF VICTORY, VAIN.
NOT less, but more,
Now that these last arrays,
This tenuous store
Of swiftly-sliding days
Are reached, are rifled. All increasingly
You hold me fast, and have the heart in fee
Of him whose Judges—Death and Darkness—wait
Their Runner, down the Straight.

Not less, but more,
This last, sad, ultimate stage,
'Yond kindly door
Of Kentish Hermitage,
Sees me the self-same man as, long ago,
Loved at first sight, felt soul and spirit glow
With instant gladness, out across the Sea,
In thrice-blest Brittany.

Not less, but more,
(Now that my Ship of Life,
Won free, secure
From elemental strife
Of winds and waters, drawn to anchorage,
Bids its grey captain cease from pilgrimage)
I own Your spell than once on Tracy Bridge,
'Neath that dear Devon ridge.

Not less, but more
To-day I see in You
Her for whom, heretofore,
I yearned and knew
(Daughter of deep-souled Thought, yet Child of Mirth!)
Hidden and harbouring somewhere on this Earth,
Dream of my passionate prime, pearl long perdue,
Consort, Queen, Mistress, too.

Not less, but more,
Comes absolute certainty
That once, before
Age and Philosophy
Shrivelled and shrunk my spirit's pristine flight,
I might have hung some new Star in the Night,
By Your sweet comrade-ship exalted, fired,
Enduringly inspired.

Not less, but more,
My Daimon cries to me,
Clamours, "Be sure
This was the one sole She
In whom you could indubitably have found
True mate, broke Inhibition's last, least bound,
Wholly fulfilled yourself; thus, spiritually shrived,
Had, in completeness, lived".

Not less, but more,
Stays on that distant dream
Of Youth and Yore.
You stand supreme:
Empress, ideal, inspiration, star,
Beacon to fresh achievement, avatar,
My life's High-Priestess, Angel un-possest,
Goddess made manifest.

Not less, but more,
Though now it be too late,
As conqueror,
To smile on conquered Fate:
If there be left, at this Eleventh Hour,
Some fraction of my former manhood's pow'r,
Let me still seek to set before Your feet
Something not all un-meet.

Not less, but more,
Than when, in earlier days
And immature,
I hacked inhibited ways,
Un-helped, through hard, harsh hours of Storm and Stress,
Shall I, in Life's last lap, essay Success:
Knowing he noblest fights who fights amain
With hope of victory, vain.



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