Classic and Contemporary Poetry
HERE IS MUSIS: 19. BEFORE AND AFTER: AFTER, by AUSTIN PHILIPS First Line: Books as our background. Books Last Line: All life still brings ... True, blest begetter of these songs! Subject(s): Books; Libraries & Librarians; Old Age; Reading | ||||||||
BOOKS as our background. Books About, around, before Us. Books whose obedient store, In row, in regiment, Stands, circumambient, On ledges, shelves, in nooks. Books in brave backs. Books brown With age. ... Books worn with use. Books blatant, platitudinous. Books whose ore, Once mined, may fire and fuse Long-harboured thoughts, thus lead Towards action, drive to deed. Books from which each who looks within them wrings That which, himself, he brings. Books born but now. Books blest By generous gift, bequeathed This hundred years, en-wreathed, En-riched by dead men's hope Of widening live men's scope: Books which some scholar-priest, Or cultured squire devised. Books universal, vast In outlook. Books particular, in-breathed With hours of Devon's Past, Which tell of Sea-Kings, wake The drum-taps of her Drake, Or else hold, crystallised, That proud millennium of memories, Her chiefest City's prize. Such this rare room where You And I held rendezvous, One week agone. To-day, benumbed, bereaved, Stricken, we gaze in grief On wreck, wrack past belief, Watch roof and rafter lie a-heap, in-weaved With blackened shelves, upheaved And fallen, reft and reaved Of their loved load which, burned To blackened fragments, turned To piteous, paltry powder, lurks and lies, Desolate, derelict, Eternally evict, Sport of the winds and plaything of the skies. ... The reek and fume of smoke Still linger on, to choke Our throats. Walls, windowless, Enclose a charred, scorched Hell, Wailing wan emptiness. ... And I? My heart itself weeps as I take farewell, Of this, my bow'r of lovebrought ruinous, made shell. No more myself, unmann'd, I gaze ... when, lo! a hand Warm, quick and generous, grasps and grips my own, Sends my poor strength renewed, Gives me fresh fortitude, Silent, speaks friendship, sees me less alone, Brings comfort, bids all feebleness be gone, Comes, vital, to dethrone Despair, kills cowardice, Grants gracious armistice To griefso granting, freshens and inspires My heart and soul to strive, Steadfast: restorative, Fills me again with pristine force, fresh fires, Points out my path, makes plain Ways I must walk again: Ways asperous, ways harsh, More mountains to ascend, Rude, route-less valleys, marsh, Flood, glacier, precipiceall road-blocks which attend Him whose horizon goes receding ... to the end. My Dear, my Very Dear Proud soul's, a high heart's compeer, Know thisknow wellthat I who have loved and won, Loved, too, and lost, outgrown, Outlived loved objects, thrown Unworthy loves aside and, pressing on, Have still stayed seeker, shunned regression, Kept firm criterion. ... Know this, (know well, I say, From one who has felt fierce sway Of bodily passion, plunged therein and plumbed Its fiery depths, essayed False creeds, impetuous made Himself frail idols, miserably succumbed To Saint or Sorceress, In passing feebleness) If Juno, Pallas, She, The Paphian, all came, Am'rous, to offer me Their conjoined gifts, their beauties, blent in one sole frame. ... I(You once found!)would find such largess trivial, tame. In sad escheat I dwell, Since each day dawns to swell My ever-growing debt, my deep, strong gratitude To You, who brought and bring New life, bid, bade me sing, (Hoarse with long silence as I was!), renewed My spirit's sap, so long repressed, em-mewed, Set Spring in Winter's blood. ... Not mine the chance, the pow'r At this, the Eleventh Hour, To compass that I might in hours of prime, repay You, who supremely stir My mind, my heart, prefer Gifts beyond price, stand stimulus and stay To me, stand lasting strength, Found late, yet found at length. ... Stand Faith, stand Hope, stand Dream, Stand sweet soul's image, stand Experience supreme, Out-vieing her, long since, by fire and passion fanned To lifeGreek Galatea, whom Pygmalion planned. Though vain be all essay, Friend of my heart, to pay Abiding obligationmeasureless and vast Beyond all tellingknow That, hour by hour, I grow Yours more completely, dwell in still more fast Devotion, stay your lover to the last, Find You in largest, least And lightest thought I think Or read or utter, link You up with every action, deed and choice I take and make, assign You temple, altar, shrine, Ceaseless, within my soul ... while music from your voice Divinely, daily dwells There, magically spells Me to make music, too. ... So that sweet rhythm throngs My being through and through, Born of your beautyYours, to which alone belongs All life still brings ... true, blest begetter of these songs! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO SONNETS: 1 by DAVID LEHMAN THE ILLUSTRATION?ÇÖA FOOTNOTE by DENISE LEVERTOV FALLING ASLEEP OVER THE AENEID by ROBERT LOWELL POETRY MACHINES by CATE MARVIN LENDING LIBRARY by PHYLLIS MCGINLEY A BALLADE OF GREEN FIELDS; FOR F.W.M. by AUSTIN PHILIPS |
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