Etchings in Verse (Underhill)/A Vision of Despair

by Andrew Findlay Underhill

A VISION OF DESPAIR.

'TWAS down in the Kingdom of Sorrow,
 A region miasmic, and drear—
 A desolate hollow, and drear;
Where no sun of a smiling to-morrow
 Gave hint of a change in the year—
 Gave promise of joy for the year.

And the sky it was starless, and leaden;
 The murky mists hung like a pall—
 The mists lay in folds like a pall;
And Despair, and Unrest, things that deaden
 All hope, ruled supreme over all—
 And stalked through the gloom over all.

And I said: "Is the changeable changeless?
 Is Darkness the god that must rule?
 Shall Darkness, and Death ever rule?
Shall no heaven-born light tint the rangeless,
 Low lands that creep down to yon pool—
 That ooze near the brink of yon pool?"

So I fell on my knees in the rushes;
 And prayed, and vowed vows mid the reeds—
 For light—mid the thin, restless reeds.
For seven long days, mid the blushes
 Of blood-flowers flush with the weeds,
 I prayed in the rank-growing weeds.

Then a star of a Sibylline luster
 Illumined a spot in the gloom;
 And beckoned me on thro' the gloom,
O'er dim, solemn woodlands where cluster
 Sad hemlocks, and night-grasses bloom—
 Where night-flowers sicken and bloom.

And I followed the star thro' the glimmer
 Of uplands that told of the day;
 For its light led to regions of day,
Till faster, and farther, and dimmer
 The melting mists faded away,
 And fled like a vision away.

And I gazed, and the planet had vanished;
 For I stood in the Kingdom of Light—
 In a kingdom of peace, and of light.
'Twas the lode-star of love that had banished
 The somber, dead hues of the night—
 The shapes of the kingdom of night.

Then She came in the dew of the morning
 With soft hazel eyes tinged with shade—
 With eyes tinged with tenderest shade,
And cheeks with faint flush like the dawning
 Of May thro' some cool forest glade—
 Like the dawn thro' some slumberous glade.

And the touch of her lips it was madness—
 All love and devotion in one—
 All ecstasies mingled in one!
My life—nay, my soul with what gladness
 I'd give, had she loved me alone—
 Had she sworn that she loved me alone.

And I worshiped her there in the gloaming
 Of nights when the moon shone afar—
 When the moon cursed my love from afar;
Till I lost her, my life, in a foaming
 White cloud that rose up with our star—
 That followed the track of our star.

Then seven long days, mid the burning
 Red sands of a low desert land—
 Of a lifeless, and scorched desert land—
I prayed—oh, God knows with what yearning!
 For her voice—yea, a touch of her hand—
 For the comforting touch of her hand.

And lo! the fierce star that had vanished
 When I entered the Kingdom of Light—
 When I first saw the regions of light—
That lode-star of love, that had banished
 The somber, dead hues of the night,
 Blazed out towards the province of night.

And I followed the star thro' the glimmer
 Of regions half weary of day;
 For its orb fled from regions of day,
Till faster, and farther, and dimmer
 The fainting lights faded away—
 And fled like a vision away.

Far down to the Kingdom of Sorrow,
 That region miasmic, and drear—
 That desolate hollow, and drear.
Ah! no sun of a smiling to-morrow
 Gives hint of a change in the year—
 Of gladness for many a year.

For the sky still is starless, and leaden,
 The murky mists hang like a pall—
 The mists lie in folds like a pall;
And Despair, and Unrest, things that deaden
 All hope, rule supreme over all—
 And stalk thro' the gloom over all.