Songs before Sunrise | Page 9

is not heaven that lights
Thee with such days and nights,
But thou
that heaven is lit from in such wise.
O thou her dearest birth,
Turn thee to lighten earth,
Earth too that
bore thee and yearns to thee and cries;
Stand up, shine, lighten,
become flame,
Till as the sun's name through all nations be thy name.
24
I take the trumpet from my lips and sing.
O life immeasurable and imminent love,
And fear like winter leading
hope like spring,
Whose flower-bright brows the day-star sits above,
Whose hand
unweariable and untiring wing
Strike music from a world that wailed and strove,
Each bright soul
born and every glorious thing,

From very freedom to man's joy thereof,
O time, O change and death,
Whose now not hateful breath
But
gives the music swifter feet to move
Through sharp remeasuring tones
Of refluent antiphones
More tender-tuned than heart or throat of dove,

Soul into soul, song into song,
Life changing into life, by laws that
work not wrong;
25
O natural force in spirit and sense, that art
One thing in all things, fruit of thine own fruit,
O thought illimitable
and infinite heart
Whose blood is life in limbs indissolute
That still keeps hurtless thine
invisible part
And inextirpable thy viewless root
Whence all sweet shafts of green
and each thy dart
Of sharpening leaf and bud resundering shoot;
Hills that the day-star hails,
Heights that the first beam scales,
And
heights that souls outshining suns salute,
Valleys for each mouth born
Free now of plenteous corn,
Waters
and woodlands' musical or mute;
Free winds that brighten brows as free,
And thunder and laughter and
lightning of the sovereign sea;
26
Rivers and springs, and storms that seek your prey;

With strong wings ravening through the skies by night;
Spirits and
stars that hold one choral way;
O light of heaven, and thou the heavenlier light
Aflame above the
souls of men that sway
All generations of all years with might;
O sunrise of the repossessing
day,
And sunrise of all-renovating right;
And thou, whose trackless foot
Mocks hope's or fear's pursuit,

Swift Revolution, changing depth with height;
And thou, whose mouth makes one
All songs that seek the sun,

Serene Republic of a world made white;
Thou, Freedom, whence the
soul's springs ran;
Praise earth for man's sake living, and for earth's
sake man.
27
Make yourselves wings, O tarrying feet of fate,
And hidden hour that hast our hope to bear,
A child-god, through the
morning-coloured gate
That lets love in upon the golden air,
Dead on whose threshold lies
heart-broken hate,
Dead discord, dead injustice, dead despair;
O love long looked for,
wherefore wilt thou wait,
And shew not yet the dawn on thy bright hair.
Not yet thine hand released
Refreshing the faint east,
Thine hand
reconquering heaven, to seat man there?

Come forth, be born and live,
Thou that hast help to give
And light
to make man's day of manhood fair:
With flight outflying the sphered sun,
Hasten thine hour and halt not,
till thy work be done.
A WATCH IN THE NIGHT
1
Watchman, what of the night? -
Storm and thunder and rain,
Lights that waver and wane,
Leaving
the watchfires unlit.
Only the balefires are bright,
And the flash of the lamps now and then
From a palace where
spoilers sit,
Trampling the children of men.
2
Prophet, what of the night? -
I stand by the verge of the sea,
Banished, uncomforted, free,

Hearing the noise of the waves
And sudden flashes that smite
Some man's tyrannous head,
Thundering, heard among graves
That hide the hosts of his dead.
3
Mourners, what of the night? -
All night through without sleep
We weep, and we weep, and we weep.

Who shall give us our sons?
Beaks of raven and kite,

Mouths of wolf and of hound,
Give us them back whom the guns
Shot for you dead on the ground.
4
Dead men, what of the night? -
Cannon and scaffold and sword,
Horror of gibbet and cord,
Mowed
us as sheaves for the grave,
Mowed us down for the right.
We do not grudge or repent.
Freely to freedom we gave
Pledges, till life should be spent.
5
Statesman, what of the night? -
The night will last me my time.
The gold on a crown or a crime

Looks well enough yet by the lamps.
Have we not fingers to write,
Lips to swear at a need?
Then, when danger decamps,
Bury the word with the deed.
6
Warrior, what of the night? -
Whether it be not or be
Night, is as one thing to me.
I for one, at the
least,
Ask not of dews if they blight,
Ask not of flames if they slay,
Ask not of prince or of priest
How long ere we put them away.
7

Master, what of the night? -
Child, night is not at all
Anywhere, fallen or to fall,
Save in our
star-stricken eyes.
Forth of our eyes it takes flight,
Look we but once nor before
Nor behind us, but straight on the skies;
Night is not then any more.
8
Exile, what of the night?