On the Downs

A faint sea without wind or sun;     A sky like flameless vapour dun;     A valley like an unsealed grave     That no man cares to weep upon,     Bare, without boon to crave,     Or flower to save.     And on the lips edge of the down,     Here where the bent-grass burns to brown     In the dry sea-wind, and the heath     Crawls to the cliff-side and looks down,     I watch, and hear beneath     The low tide breathe.     Along the long lines of the cliff,     Down the flat sea-line without skiff     Or sail or back-blown fume for mark,     Through wind-worn heads of heath and stiff     Stems blossomless and stark     With dry sprays dark,     I send mine eyes out as for news     Of comfort that all these refuse,     Tidings of light or living air     From windward where the low clouds muse     And the sea blind and bare     Seems full of care.     So is it now as it was then,     And as men have been such are men.     There as I stood I seem to stand,     Here sitting chambered, and again     Feel spread on either hand     Sky, sea, and land.     As a queen taken and stripped and bound     Sat earth, discoloured and discrowned;     As a kings palace empty and dead     The sky was, without light or sound;     And on the summers head     Were ashes shed.     Scarce wind enough was on the sea,     Scarce hope enough there moved in me,     To sow with live blown flowers of white     The green plains sad serenity,     Or with stray thoughts of light     Touch my souls sight.     By footless ways and sterile went     My thought unsatisfied, and bent     With blank unspeculative eyes     On the untracked sands of discontent     Where, watched of helpless skies,     Life hopeless lies.     East and west went my soul to find     Light, and the world was bare and blind     And the soil herbless where she trod     And saw men laughing scourge mankind,     Unsmitten by the rod     Of any God.     Out of times blind old eyes were shed     Tears that were mortal, and left dead     The heart and spirit of the years,     And on mans fallen and helmless head     Times disanointing tears     Fell cold as fears.     Hope flowering had but strength to bear     The fruitless fruitage of despair;     Grief trod the grapes of joy for wine,     Whereof love drinking unaware     Died as one undivine     And made no sign.     And soul and body dwelt apart;     And weary wisdom without heart     Stared on the dead round heaven and sighed,     Is death too hollow as thou art,     Or as mans living pride?     And saying so died.     And my soul heard the songs and groans     That are about and under thrones,     And felt through all times murmur thrill     Fates old imperious semitones     That made of good and ill     One same tune still.     Then Where is God? and where is aid?     Or what good end of these? she said;     Is there no God or end at all,     Nor reason with unreason weighed,     Nor force to disenthral     Weak feet that fall?     No light to lighten and no rod     To chasten men? Is there no God?     So girt with anguish, iron-zoned,     Went my soul weeping as she trod     Between the men enthroned     And men that groaned.     O fool, that for brute cries of wrong     Heard not the grey glad mothers song     Ring response from the hills and waves,     But heard harsh noises all day long     Of spirits that were slaves     And dwelt in graves.     The wise word of the secret earth     Who knows what life and death are worth,     And how no help and no control     Can speed or stay things come to birth,     Nor all worlds wheels that roll     Crush one born soul.     With all her tongues of life and death,     With all her bloom and blood and breath,     From all years dead and all things done,     In the ear of man the mother saith,     There is no God, O son,     If thou be none.     So my soul sick with watching heard     That day the wonder of that word,     And as one springs out of a dream     Sprang, and the stagnant wells were stirred     Whence flows through gloom and gleam     Thoughts soundless stream.     Out of pale cliff and sunburnt health,     Out of the low sea curled beneath     In the lands bending arm embayed,     Out of all lives that thought hears breathe     Life within life inlaid,     Was answer made.     A multitudinous monotone     Of dust and flower and seed and stone,     In the deep sea-rocks mid-sea sloth,     In the live waters trembling zone,     In all men love and loathe,     One God at growth.     One forceful nature uncreate     That feeds itself with death and fate,     Evil and good, and change and time,     That within all men lies at wait     Till the hour shall bid them climb     And live sublime.     For all things come by fate to flower     At their unconquerable hour,     And time brings truth, and truth makes free,     And freedom fills times veins with power,     As, brooding on that sea,     My thought filled me.     And the sun smote the clouds and slew,     And from the sun the seas breath blew,     And white waves laughed and turned and fled     The long green heaving sea-field through,     And on them overhead     The sky burnt red     Like a furled flag that wind sets free,     On the swift summer-coloured sea     Shook out the red lines of the light,     The live suns standard, blown to lee     Across the live seas white     And green delight.     And with divine triumphant awe     My spirit moved within me saw,     With burning passion of stretched eyes,     Clear as the lights own firstborn law,     In windless wastes of skies     Times deep dawn rise.