Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HERE IS MUSIC: MY LORDS, by AUSTIN PHILIPS


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HERE IS MUSIC: MY LORDS, by                    
First Line: My lords of life and death, if, suppliant, I
Last Line: Had ta'en, fulfill'd: who, too, had lost false friends for truth.
Subject(s): Friendship - False Friends; Fair Weather Friends


MY Lords of Life and Death, if, suppliant, I
Might haply have
One boon,
Eftsoon,
And granted ere it grow my turn to die,
Certain surcease,
Royal release
Of grief, this side the grave,
Were swiftly, surely mine:
So, lighten'd, would I lave
My soul, in sun and shine
Go, joyful, down glad days in carefree constancy.

The thing I ask, my Lords, is that all those
Who, youthful band,
Did wend
As friend,
(So-called!) then waxed indifferent, grew foes
Should crowding come
Either in sum
Or severally, and stand
Before me, steadfast, firm,
Set forth, expound, expand
Real wrong or fancied, term
And period put to breach. . .or quarrel's cause expose.

Such joy, my Lords, such lift of load, heart's ease,
In that sweet case
It were
To bear
My eager self in amity and peace
Henceforth towards those
Who, foolish, froze
In friendship, named me base—
Me, in my stark, black hour,
Me, lone in Life's long race,
Yet firm of purpose, sure
Of chosen course, clear call towards spiritual increase.

Such balm, my Lords of Life and Death it would
Bring to make plain
I sought,
Nor wrought
No wrong, but—finer clay from fouler mould
To freedman's shape
Forced to escape—
Found odium, earned disdain
From such as failed to see
My unseen goal, my gain
Esteemed mere vanity,
Who called me selfish, held me heartless, cruel, cold.

Taunted and gibed at, stung to wrath, I turned
In dark disdain,
Contempt
Undreamt—
Of, (since what force, what fire there burned
In fierce foison
Within me, none
Knew less than I!), with main
And might I—stricken—struck. ...
Then flung myself again
Into my task, and took,
Fearless, that fearful road 'yond which lay things long yearned.

I found my unseen goal, sweet, spiritual State
Set on high hill
Whose walls
To thralls
Afford enfranchisement, whose gracious gate
(Close-closed, strong-lock'd
'Gainst men who mock'd)
Swing wide to such as Will
And Faith and Purpose drave
To find themselves. My fill
I took of all it gave. ...
Then turned and looked long leagues towards those I lost of late.

Emotion mastered me, abounding love,
Passionate tenderness
(More strong
Since long
Crushed back, withheld, to midmost heart deep-drove)
Sudden upwelled,
Resistless swelled.
I ached to make, possess
Friends; sought, at first, the old,
Eager to end, suppress
All mutual wrongs, to hold
Them close once more—their souls to mine re-knit, new-wove.

But, lo! to my amaze, each turned away
With sullen air,
Not grace
But face
Of foolish, childish scorn would fain display,
In petty pride
Refused, denied
Acquaintance, sullen stare
Afforded, strove to kill
With looks, and offered tare
For wheat. My wrung heart bled.
I tried once more, bore blame for all that ancient ill.

In vain. Vain, too, my Lords, the pray'r I sigh'd
Long since to You.
To-day
I pay
You grateful thanks for orison denied,
Who told and taught to me
That mediocrity
Never forgives; anew,
Bade me go walk alone
Till such time as the few,
The élite, should welcome, own
Me as blood-brother ... born of Suff'ring, sired by Pride.

Once more your servant, seeking spiritual growth,
I did your hest
Again,
With main
And might—and, e'en as one in ardent youth—
Sallied, set forth
To prove fresh worth
With shining lance in rest:
Not sad nor lonely now,
Since strong men round me pressed,
Souls who themselves high vow
Had ta'en, fulfill'd: who, too, had lost false friends for Truth.





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