Poems (Blind)/Invocation

by Mathilde Blind

For works with similar titles, see Invocation.

INVOCATION.
June, 1866.

Breathe thro' me in music,
 Spirit of the time!
Pregnant with the future,
 Spirit of the time!

As the west wind sougheth,
 Through the swaying pine,
Sweep thro' all my branches
 With thy song divine.

Nations now are rolling
 Onward, as the sea
Which the moon upheaveth,
 Thus upheaved by thee.

Muffled mutt'ring groweth
 Louder on the air!
Like a lion roaring,
 Rising from his lair.

As the anthem surgeth
 Through cathedral aisles,
Swells the voice of nations
 Over miles of miles.

As the thunder growleth
 In yon cloud afar,
In their bosoms broodeth
 The black bolt of war.

Snap in twain your fetters,
 Cleave your ancient yoke,
Burst the gloom of ages
 With the lightning's stroke.

Clap on clap, down-crashing,
 Clatter crowd on crowd,
From Venetia's dungeons,
 From the Roman shroud;

From the graves of Poland,
 From Germania's plains,
From the death-pollution
 Of imperial chains.

Feel yourselves as brothers,
 Dare to think ye free;
And in dust will shiver
 Thrones of tyranny.

Like night's phantoms, with'ring
 'Neath the glance of dawn,
Kings and priests dissolveth
 Your full-flashing frown.

Forward, sons of morning,
 With a sacred ire!
Lead ye, like Jehovah,
 In a pillar of fire.

Through the dreary desert,
 Through the burning sand
Till, on shores of promise
 And of peace, ye land.

Where a purer people,
 Led by laws innate,
Shall, towards the heavens,
 Tower in grander state.

Breathe and blow in music;
 On, from clime to clime;
Baptize, with the Holy Ghost
 Spirit of the time.