Death and Birth

'Tis the midnight hour; I heardThe Abbey-bell give out the word.Seldom is the lamp-ray shedOn some dwarfed foot-farer's headIn the deep and narrow streetLying ditch-like at my feetWhere I stand at lattice highDownward gazing listlesslyFrom my house upon the rock,Peak of earth's foundation-block.

There her windows, every story,Shine with far-off nebulous glory!Round her in that luminous cloudStars obedient press and crowd,She the centre of all gazing,She the sun her planets dazing!In her eyes' victorious lightningSome are paling, some are brightening:Those on which they gracious turn,Stars combust, all tenfold burn;Those from which they look awayListless roam in twilight gray!When on her my looks I bentWonder shook me like a tent,And my eyes grew dim with sheen,Wasting light upon its queen!But though she my eyes might chain,Rule my ebbing flowing brain,Truth alone, without, within,Can the soul's high homage win!

He, I do not doubt, is thereWho unveiled my idol fair!And I thank him, grateful much,Though his end was none of such.He from shapely lips of witLet the fire-flakes lightly flit,Scorching as the snow that fellOn the damned in Dante's hell;With keen, gentle opposition,Playful, merciless precision,Mocked the sweet romance of youthBalancing on spheric truth;He on sense's firm set planeRolled the unstable ball amain:With a smile she looked at me,Stung my soul, and set me free.

Welcome, friend! Bring in your bricks.Mortar there? No need to mix?That is well. And picks and hammers?Verily these are no shammers!--There, my friend, build up that niche,That one with the painting rich!

Yes, you're right; it is a showPicture seldom can bestow;City palaces and towers,Terraced gardens, twilight bowers,Vistas deep through swaying masts,Pennons flaunting in the blasts:Build; my room it does not fit;Brick-glaze is the thing for it!

Yes, a window you may call it;Not the less up you must wall it:In that niche the dead world lies;Bury death, and free mine eyes.

There were youths who held by me,Said I taught, yet left them free:Will they do as I said then?God forbid! As ye are men,Find the secret--follow and find!All forget that lies behind;Me, the schools, yourselves, forsake;In your souls a silence make;Hearken till a whisper come,Listen, follow, and be dumb.

There! 'tis over; I am dead!Of my life the broken threadHere I cast out of my hand!--O my soul, the merry land!On my heart the sinking vaultOf my ruining past makes halt;Ages I could sit and moanFor the shining world that's gone!

Haste and pierce the other wall;Break an opening to the All!Where? No matter; done is best.Kind of window? Let that rest:Who at morning ever liesPondering how to ope his eyes!

I bethink me: we must fallOn the thinnest of the wall!There it must be, in that niche!--No, the deepest--that in whichStands the Crucifix.

You start?--Ah, your half-believing heartShrinks from that as sacrilege,Or, at least, upon its edge!Worse than sacrilege, I say,Is it to withhold the dayFrom the brother whom thou knowestFor the God thou never sawest!

Reverently, O marble cold,Thee in living arms I fold!Thou who art thyself the wayFrom the darkness to the day,Window, thou, to every land,Wouldst not one dread moment standShutting out the air and skyAnd the dayspring from on high!Brother with the rugged crown,Gently thus I lift thee down!

Give me pick and hammer; youStand aside; the deed I'll do.Yes, in truth, I have small skill,But the best thing is the will.

Stroke on stroke! The frescoed plasterClashes downward, fast and faster.Hark, I hear an outer stoneDown the rough rock rumbling thrown!There's a cranny! there's a crack!The great sun is at its back!Lo, a mass is outward flung!In the universe hath sprung!

See the gold upon the blue!See the sun come blinding through!See the far-off mountain shineIn the dazzling light divine!Prisoned world, thy captive's gone!Welcome wind, and sky, and sun!