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From “Resurgam”
INTO the valley land my feet descend, and man may not go with me; | |
| But Thou, O God, companion me in love that I be unafraid. | |
| The dream of death has flowered in my soul and sounds of earth fall dimly on my ears. | |
| Slowly the sun goes westering in the hills, and the crimson pageant of my passing hour | |
| Flames in their deeps and moves across the sky. | 5 |
| Something within me reaches back to birth and fills me with exulting. | |
| As the waters of a river, sweep the wonders of creation through my being, | |
| And life and death are so inseparate I know not each from each. | |
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| And yet a mighty fearing falls upon me. | |
| Shadows descend and blur the crimson hills. | 10 |
| A wind flung from a womb of ice | |
| Blows from the shores of nothingness. | |
| The shadows shed their shoes of stealth; | |
| They run in naked swiftness from the hills | |
| Calling the hosts of darkness. | 15 |
| The winds sing a song of fury, | |
| The winds arise and shout their passion down the world. | |
| Drained in a pitiless draught | |
| Are the splendors of the skies. | |
| Towers of cypress touch the heights; | 20 |
| Even in a battlement of gloom | |
| The towers of cypress overwhelm the heavens. | |
| My peace is perished, | |
| My dreams are fallen from me. | |
| Into the night no planet speeds its glory; | 25 |
| The stars are drowned. | |
| Lonely the hulk of a broken moon | |
| Lifts its bloody sail. | |
| Merged into rushing torrents are the shadows and the winds; | |
| The shadows and the winds plunge high upon the shore | 30 |
| And swallow all the world. | |
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| Why hast Thou hidden Thyself, O God? | |
| Why hast Thou turned Thy face aside | |
| And burdened me with night? | |
| Where is my dream of death, | 35 |
| And where its sanctuary? | |
| The heat of hell assails me; | |
| I am consumed in bitterness and pain. | |
| Reveal Thyself, O unforgetting Spirit! | |
| Reveal Thyself that I may be enshrined | 40 |
| In the beauty of Thy presence. | |
| Drive forth this mocking counterfeit of Death, | |
| For it is Thou who art my Death, O living God, | |
| It is Thou who art my Death, and only Thou! | |
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| My fearing passes from me: | 45 |
| As a heavy mantle falling from tired shoulders, | |
| My fearing slips away. | |
| Candles are set at my feet that I be not lost forever. | |
| Thou hast heard my cry, O Great Bestower! | |
| Thou hast heard my cry, Thou hast lifted me up, | 50 |
| Thou hast delivered me! | |
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| Now does the hush of night lie purple on the hills. | |
| The moon walks softly in a trance of sleep; | |
| Her whiteness cools the passion of the skies. | |
| I hang my quiet lute upon her curve | 55 |
| And let the night winds chant my requiem. | |
| Waters of peace arise and drift me down the spaciousness of silence and of sleep; | |
| God lights His solemn watch-fires overhead to keep the vigil of man’s mystery. | |
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| In the triumph of surrender I take Thy gift of sleep. | |
| Lean low, Thou Shepherd of my dreams; lean low to meet me as I lift on high | 60 |
| The chalice of my dying. | |
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