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dreams & dust-第3部分
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DICKENS
〃The only book that the party had was a volume of Dickens。
During the six months that they lay in the cave which they
had hacked in the ice; waiting for spring to come; they read
this volume through again and again。〃From a newspaper
report of an antarctic expedition。
HUDDLED within their savage lair
They hearkened to the prowling wind;
They heard the loud wings of despair 。 。 。
And madness beat against the mind。 。 。 。
A sunless world stretched stark outside
As if it had cursed God and died;
Dumb plains lay prone beneath the weight
Of cold unutterably great;
Iron ice bound all the bitter seas;
The brutal hills were bleak as hate。 。 。 。
Here none but Death might walk at ease!
Then Dickens spoke; and; lo! the vast
Unpeopled void stirred into life;
The dead world quickened; the mad blast
Hushed for an hour its idiot strife
With nothingness。 。 。 。
And from the gloom;
Parting the flaps of frozen skin;
Old friends and dear came trooping in;
And light and laughter filled the room。 。 。 。
Voices and faces; shapes beloved;
Babbling lips and kindly eyes;
Not ghosts; but friends that lived and moved 。 。 。
They brought the sun from other skies;
They wrought the magic that dispels
The bitterer part of loneliness 。 。 。
And when they vanished each man dreamed
His dream there in the wilderness。 。 。 。
One heard the chime of Christmas bells;
And; staring down a country lane;
Saw bright against the window…pane
The firelight beckon warm and red。 。 。 。
And one turned from the waterside
Where Thames rolls down his slothful tide
To breast the human sea that beats
Through roaring London's battered streets
And revel in the moods of men。 。 。 。
And one saw all the April hills
Made glad with golden daffodils;
And found and kissed his love again。 。 。 。
。 。 。 。 。 。
By all the troubled hearts he cheers
In homely ways or by lost trails;
By all light shed through all dark years
When hope grows sick and courage quails;
We hail him first among his peers;
Whether we sorrow; sing; or feast;
He; too; hath known and understood
Master of many moods; high priest
Of mirth and lord of cleansing tears!
A POLITICIAN
LEADER no more; be judged of us!
Hailed Chief; and loved; of yore
Youth; and the faith of youth; cry out:
Leader and Chief no more!
We dreamed a Prophet; flushed with faith;
Content to toil in pain
If that his sacrifice might be;
Somehow; his people's gain。
We saw a vision; and our blood
Beat red and hot and strong:
〃Lead us (we cried) to war against
Some foul; embattled wrong!〃
We dreamed a Warrior whose sword
Was edged for sham and shame;
We dreamed a Statesman far above
The vulgar lust for fame。
We were not cynics; and we dreamed
A Man who made no truce
With lies nor ancient privilege
Nor old; entrenched abuse。
We dreamed 。 。 。 we dreamed 。 。 。 Youth dreamed
a dream!
And even you forgot
Yourself; one moment; and dreamed; too
Struck; while your mood was hot!
Struck three or four good blows 。 。 。 and then
Turned back to easier things:
The cheap applause; the blatant mob;
The praise of underlings!
Praise 。 。 。 praise 。 。 。 was ever man so filled;
So avid still; of praise?
So hungry for the crowd's acclaim;
The sycophantic phrase?
O you whom Greatness beckoned to 。 。 。
O swollen Littleness
Who turned from Immortality
To fawn upon Success!
O blind with love of self; who led
Youth's vision to defeat;
Bawling and brawling for rewards;
Loud; in the common street!
O you who were so quick to judge
Leader; and loved; of yore
Hear now the judgment of our youth:
Leader and Chief no more!
THE BAYONET
(1914)
THE great guns slay from a league away; the death…
bolts fly unseen;
And bellowing hill replies to hill; machine to brute
machine;
But still in the end when the long lines bend and
the battle hangs in doubt
They take to the steel in the same old way that
their fathers fought it out
It is man to man and breast to breast and eye
to bloodshot eye
And the reach and twist of the thrusting wrist; as
it was in the days gone by!
Along the shaken hills the guns their drumming
thunder roll
But the keen blades thrill with the lust to kill
that leaps from the slayer's soul!
For hand and heart and living steel; one pulse of
hate they feel。
Is your clan afraid of the naked blade? Does it
flinch from the bitter steel?
Perish your dreams of conquest then; your swollen
hopes and bold;
For empire dwells with the stabbing blade; as it
did in the days of old!
THE BUTCHERS AT PRAYER
(1914)
EACH nation as it draws the sword
And flings its standard to the air
Petitions piously the Lord
Vexing the void abyss with prayer。
O irony too deep for mirth!
O posturing apes that rant; and dare
This antic attitude! O Earth;
With your wild jest of wicked prayer!
I dare not laugh 。 。 。 a rising swell
Of laughter breaks in shrieks somewhere
No doubt they relish it in Hell;
This cosmic jest of Earth at prayer!
SHADOWS
HAUNTED
(THE GHOST SPEAKS)
A GHOST is the freak of a sick man's brain?
Then why do ye start and shiver so?
That's the sob and drip of a leaky drain?
But it sounds like another noise we know!
The heavy drops drummed red and slow;
The drops ran down as slow as fate
Do ye hear them still?it was long ago!
But here in the shadows I wait; I wait!
Spirits there be that pass in peace;
Mine passed in a whorl of wrath and dole;
And the hour that your choking breath shall cease
I will get my grip on your naked soul
Nor pity may stay nor prayer cajole
I would drag ye whining from Hell's own gate:
To me; to me; ye must pay the toll!
And here in the shadows I wait; I wait!
The dead they are dead; they are out of the way?
And a ghost is the whim of an ailing mind?
Then why did ye whiten with fear to…day
When ye heard a voice in the calling wind?
Why did ye falter and look behind
At the creeping mists when the hour grew late?
Ye would see my face were ye stricken blind!
And here in the shadows I wait; I wait!
Drink and forget; make merry and boast;
But the boast rings false and the jest is thin
In the hour that I meet ye ghost to ghost;
Stripped of the flesh that ye skulk within;
Stripped to the coward soul 'ware of its sin;
Ye shall learn; ye shall learn; whether dead men
hate!
Ah; a weary time has the waiting been;
But here in the shadows I wait; I wait!
A NIGHTMARE
LEAGUES before me; leagues behind;
Clamor warring wastes of flood;
All the streams of all the worlds
Flung together; mad of mood;
Through the canon beats a sound;
Regular of interval;
Distant; drumming; muffled; dull;
Thunderously rhythmical;
Crafts slip by my startled soul
Soul that cowers; a thing apart
They are corpuscles of blood!
That's the throbbing of a heart!
God of terrors!am I mad?
Through my body; mine own soul;
Shrunken to an atom's size;
Voyages toward an unguessed goal!
THE MOTHER
THE mother by the gallows…tree;
The gallows…tree; the gallows…tree;
(While the twitching body mocked the sun)
Lifted to Heaven her broken heart
And called for sympathy。
Then Mother Mary bent to her;
Bent from her place by God's left side;
And whispered: 〃Peacedo I not know?
My son was crucified!〃
〃O Mother Mary;〃 answered she;
〃You cannot; cannot enter in
To my soul's woeyou cannot know
For your son wrought no sin!〃
(And men whose work compelled them there;
Their hearts were stricken dead;
They heard the rope creak on the beam;
I thought I heard the frightened ghost
Whimpering overhead。)
The mother by the gallows…tree;
The gallows…tree; the gallows…tree;
Lifted to Christ her broken heart
And called in agony。
Then Lord Christ bent to her and said:
〃Be comforted; be comforted;
I know your grief; the whole world's woe
I bore upon my head。〃
〃But O Lord Christ; you cannot know;
No one can know;〃 she said; 〃no one〃
(While the quivering corpse swayed in the wind)
〃Lord Christ; no one can understand
Who never had a son!〃
IN THE BAYOU
LAZY and slow; through the snags and trees
Move the sluggish currents; half asleep;
Around and between the cypress knees;
Like black; slow snakes the dark tides creep
How deep is the bayou beneath the trees?
〃Knee…deep;
Knee…deep;
Knee…deep;
Knee…deep!〃
Croaks the big bullfrog of Reelfoot Lake
From his hiding…place in the draggled brake。
What is the secret the slim reeds know
That makes them to shake and to shiver so;
And the scared flags quiver from plume to foot?
The frogs pipe solemnly; deep and slow:
〃Look under
the root!
Look under
the root!〃
The hoarse frog croaks and the stark owl hoots
Of a mystery moored in the cypress roots。
Was it love turned hate? Was it friend turned foe?
Only the frogs and the gray owl know;
For the white moon shrouded her face in a mist
At the spurt of a pistol; red and bright
At the sound of a shriek that stabbed the night
And the little reeds were frightened and whist;
But always the eddies whimper and choke;
And the frogs would tell if they could; for they
croak:
〃Deep; deep!
Death…deep!
Deep; deep!
Dea
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