Soothsay

Eight days went by, eight daysComforted by no nights, until finally:“Would you behold yourself old, beloved?”I was pierced, yet I consented gladlyFor I knew it could not be otherwise.And she--“Behold yourself old!Sustained in strength, wielding might in gript surges!Not bodying the sun in weak leapsBut holding way over rockish menWith fern free fingers on their little crags,Their hollows, the new Atlas, to bear themFor pride and for mockery! BeholdYourself old! winding with slow might--A vine among oaks--to the thin tops:Leaving the leafless leaved,Bearing purple clusters! BeholdYourself old! birds are behind you.You are the wind coming that stills birds,Shakes the leaves in booming polyphony--Slow, winning high way amid the knockingOf boughs, evenly crescendo,The din and bellow of the male wind!Leap then from forest into foam!Lash about from low into high flamesTipping sound, the female chorus--Linking all lions, all twitteringsTo make them nothing! Behold yourself old!”As I made to answer she continued,A little wistfully yet in a voice clear cut:“Good is my over lip and evilMy underlip to you henceforth:For I have taken your soul between my two handsAnd this shall be as it is spoken.”

And so it came to that last dayWhen, she leading by the hand, we went outEarly in the morning, I heavy of heartFor I knew the novitiate was endedThe ecstasy was over, the life begun.

In my woolen shirt and the pale blue necktieMy grandmother gave me, there I wentWith the old queen right past the housesOf my friends down the hill to the riverAs on any usual day, any errand.Alone, walking under trees,I went with her, she with me in her wild hair,By Santiago Grove and presentlyShe bent forward and knelt by the river,The Passaic, that filthy river.And there dabbling her mad hands,She called me close beside her.Raising the water then in the cupped palmShe bathed our brows wailing and laughing:“River, we are old, you and I,We are old and by bad luck, beggars.Lo, the filth in our hair, our bodies stink!Old friend, here I have brought youThe young soul you long asked of me.Stand forth, river, and give meThe old friend of my revels!Give me the well-worn spirit,For here I have made a room for it,And I will return to you forthwithThe youth you have long asked of me:Stand forth, river, and give meThe old friend of my revels!”And the filthy Passaic consented!

Then she, leaping up with a fierce cry:“Enter, youth, into this bulk!Enter, river, into this young man!”Then the river began to enter my heart,Eddying back cool and limpidInto the crystal beginning of its days.But with the rebound it leaped forward:Muddy, then black and shrunkenTill I felt the utter depth of its rottennessThe vile breadth of its degradationAnd dropped down knowing this was me now.But she lifted me and the water took a new tideAgain into the older experiences,And so, backward and forward,It tortured itself within meUntil time had been washed finally under,And the river had found its levelAnd its last motion had ceasedAnd I knew all--it became me.And I knew this for double certainFor there, whitely, I saw myselfBeing borne off under the water!I could have shouted out in my agonyAt the sight of myself departingForever--but I bit back my despairFor she had averted her eyesBy which I knew well what she was thinking--And so the last of me was taken.

Then she, “Be mostly silent!”And turning to the river, spoke again:“For him and for me, river, the wandering,But by you I leave for happinessDeep foliage, the thickest beeches--Though elsewhere they are all dying--Tallest oaks and yellow birchesThat dip their leaves in you, mourning,As now I dip my hair, immemorialOf me, immemorial of himImmemorial of these our promises!Here shall be a bird’s paradise,They sing to you remembering my voice:Here the most secluded spacesFor miles around, hallowed by a stenchTo be our joint solitude and temple;In memory of this clear marriageAnd the child I have brought you in the late years.Live, river, live in luxurianceRemembering this our son,In remembrance of me and my sorrowAnd of the new wandering!”