Ballads of Battle/The Combat
THE COMBAT
"For I am fearfully and wonderfully made."
I with my mouth must munch my food,Even as the monster in the wood,And yet, dear heart, my lips to thineHave clung in ecstasies divine!
I feel my ribs like prison-bars,And still, I comprehend the stars;Through the white mas'nry of my bonesA sleepless spirit stalks and groans!
This pulsing heart is all afireWith passion and with wild desire,And still, I turn dim yearning eyesThrice daily to the unanswering skies,
I have in me to burn and slay—And yet a little child will layIts soft warm cheek upon my cheek,And I, as it, am mild and meek!
The hunger of the wolf I have,And yet, I hunger most for love,And often have I wept to scanThe misery of my brother-man.
I hear, within the forest wild,A whispering: Thou art our child!And yet, again I hear a callWithin the vast Cathedral.
Oft have I clasped thee in my arms,And loved thee for thy woman's charms;Yet have I sought, and seemed to seeAnd love, a woman's soul in thee!
The fleshly lust, the pride of life,The joyaunce in a selfish strife,The din of battle in my ear—And yet a still small voice I hear!
I would not do the thing I would,I shun the evil, seek the good;Comes prompting from the past: You must!And pulls me backward in the dust.
My hands are clawed to clutch and keep;My eyes grow heavy unto sleep,I crouch beneath a poor roof-tree,I wake—and I am still with Thee.
I know that when I come to die,My bones all strawed about shall lie;The hand that fashioned shall annulThis cunning sculpture of my skull.
O Thou behind that outmost star,Have mercy if Thy plans we mar,For lo! we know not what we are!
I with my mouth must munch my foodLike uncouth creatures in the wood,Yet from my lips what prayers ariseAlway to the unanswering skies!