Clouds without Water/The Thaumaturge
The Thaumaturge
I
Then the Lord answered me out of the wind, Out of the whirlwind did He answer me; Gird up thy loins now like a man, and find If thou canst answer like a man to Me!Who art thou darkening counsel by thy word, And in thine ignorance accusing Them Who, ere thy prayer was formulated, heard And crowned it with its passion's diadem?Who is the Son of Man, that We should mind him? Or visit the vain virgin of his pleasance? Yet ever as he went We stood behind him And compassed her with Our continual presence?From the black whirlwind the most high God sayeth: Why did ye doubt, o ye of little faith?
II
I answer Thee out of the utmost dust. I am a worm, I abase myself, I cry Against myself that I am found unjust More than all they that dwell beneath the sky.I do repent, I do lament, o Thou Who hast watched over us and cared for us, Beating i' the dust this consecrated brow, And answer Thee in broken murmur thus,That I am altogether base and vile, That Thou art altogether good and great, That Thou hast given the guerdon grace for guile Even while I lifted up myself to FateAnd cursed Thee. And from me who scorned to pray Thou hast rolled the sad sepulchral stone away.
III
On this wise: that by uttermost good Forune I met you walking out in London city, Even when from Heaven I did not dare importune Hardly to pass your house! The Gods took pityThey whirled us in a chariot of fire About the highest heavens for many an age! So Regent's Park may seem to hot desire; So the archangel gets a cabman's wage;So all the aeons that pass still leave one time To take one's lunch at the appointed hour— This is the difference between prose and rime And this the great gulf fixed for leaf and flower.The British public grunts and growls and grovels, Swilling its hogwash of neurotic novels.
IV
We knew enough to wake to choral rapture All answering Nature: I will swear the sun Came out; you saw the moulting trees recapture Their plumage, and the green destroy the dun.Nothing could jar; the British workman took A kindly interest in our kind caresses; The loafing nursemaid and the musing cook Agreed with us entirely. Love impressesIts seal upon the world; is skilled to wake The sympathy of everything that lives. Kindliness flows, not venom, from the snake; The trodden worm dies duly—but forgives.The cabman asked four shillings for the job, And almost boggled at my glad ten bob!
V
Oh! it was rapture and madness once again To turn our tears to kisses brimming over The mouths that never were too wide and fain For lover to hold intercourse with lover.Ah! we were owls of dusk to doubt the light, Bats to mistrust the Wolf's tail's holy warning; "Sorrow endureth maybe for a night, But joy most surely cometh in the morning".Joy, ay! what joy poured straight from the high treasure, The inexhaustible treasure of delight The gods have poured us, pouring overmeasure Because we love with all our life and might.Believe me, it is better than all prayers To show the gods our love surpasses theirs!
VI
Nay, even thus you could not credit Fate, Even in my arms close cuddled as you lay With hard-shut eyes and lips inebriate With their own kisses all this happy day.Nay, but blaspheming you put hope aside, Bade me forget you, swore yourself a liar, Smiled through the words because you knew you lied, Knew that—what waters can put out our fire?So we amused ourselves with cunning brisk Careful arrangements to forget each other. You cut that love-curl from your neck at risk Of comment—at the slightest—from your mother.You gave it me—God forget me, dear girl, When I forget to treasure up that curl!
VII
Your loveliness should help me to forget you; Your murmurous "I love you" like soft bees Humming should help; although my kisses fret you, They are intended but to give you ease,And help you to forget me; then, the fixed Ardent intentness of my cat-green eyes Flecked with red fire is like a potion mixed Straight out of Lethe, or divination lies.If there be truth in augury, your lips Fastened to mine should be a certain spell To put your memory of me in eclipse:— In short, if all be true that sages tell,Two days of absence with roast beef and beer Will cure me of you perfectly, my dear!
VIII
Why did you play with such ungracious folly? Because our passion is too bitter-sweet? Because the acute and maddening melancholy Is stronger than the rapture when we meet?Because you weep beyond your own control Like to one wounded bleeding inwardly? Because you are not the mistress of your soul Mighty enough to master fate and me?It cuts me to the heart to see the brine Not falling from your bad bewitching eyes, To feel you are weeping in the central shrine Whose woes the peristyle may not surprise.I want to treat you as a lover rather; You make me lecture to you like a father!
IX
Write in your heart, dear maid, that Hitherto The Lord hath helped us. Give Him duly praise (As I have given Him for making you). Pray not, ask not for wealth and length of daysOr even for wisdom, lest one day you find That you are saddened with some thousand grooms (You bear the case of Solomon in mind!) All in frock-coats and helmeted (with plumes)—A scarcely pleasant prospect! Just give thanks O Lord, for what we have received, Amen! And then if Jordan overflows his banks, Our vines increase, and one seed turns to ten,Keep on thanksgiving! Even if things go wrong, Howls are less pleasant to the ear than song.
X
Keep on thanksgiving! We are tenfold blest Beyond others, simply having found each other. Were we to part for ever, breast from breast, Now, even now, there would not be anotherIn all the earth that should not envy aright With plenty cause our short-lived happiness. No life can hold one half-an-hour's delight Such as we had—this morning! Why then, bless,Bless all that lives and moves and hath its being! Bless all the Gods, without omitting one! Bless all the company of heaven, agreeing To veil their fires to our stupendous sun!Bless all the lesser glories that excite In the great gladness of our mother light!
XI
How purely unexpected was the chance! When things looked blackest, on a sudden, the sun! Chance is another word for ignorance; We do not know how all these things are done.But what has happened once may happen again, And "Hitherto the Lord hath helped us", dear! "History repeats itself"—which makes it plain That "Evermore the Lord will help us." FearAnd sorrow are folly; you must sleep o' nights (Try reading me!) and I can promise you You will awake to more divine delights Than ever in the world you guessed or knew.Stick to it! One fine day you'll find on waking Me in your arms, and—oh! your body aching!
XII
This is an effort of prophetic skill Not passing range of human calculation. A woman gets exactly what she will If she keeps willing it sans divagation.To have me secretly and altogether Yours is your will—unless your kisses lied. Sooner or later we shall slip the tether And all the world before us deep and wideGape like the abyss, through which we fall to find Strange equilibrium without support, Strange rapture without sense, and void of mind Strange ecstasies that mock the name of thought.Sooner or later, Lola! Circumstance Bows before those who never miss a chance.
XIII
This is enough to make a donkey laugh! I talk like a Dutch uncle; and you listen Like a man reading his own epitaph. But, really! Truly! How our glad eyes glisten!How our hearts romp! Whatever we may say, Have never a doubt, Lord, that it's all thanksgiving! If Thou dost thus for people every day, How very easy Thou must make a living!We would be like Thee! if we had the power We would fill all folk with supernal blisses, Breed life's sweet briar to the full June flower And on their praises feed our proper kisses.For as you said "However kind the gods are, We could be kinder yet I think the odds are".
XVI
Let me take leave of you as heretofore With solemn kiss and sacred reverence! I love you better and I love you more Daily, and whether you are hither or hence,I adore you as I adore the holy ones That do abide exalted in their shrine Starry beyond mere splendour of stars and suns. Drunken beyond mere Dionysian wine.Thus do I hold you; thus I pray you hold Me as a secret and a blessed chrism That you have gained to adorn your house of gold By some strange silent sacred exorcism.You have said 'I love you'—sacraments are true— I exchange the salutation. I love you