Songs of the Soul/Part 2

by Swami Yogananda

Layout 2

PART II

WAKE, WAKE MY SLEEPING HUNGER, WAKE!

When tables large of earth and moon and meteors,
Of brooks and rills, of shining ether ore
Are laid with wondrous One Nectar,
Stolen from nature’s nooks by lars,—
Do thou thy sullen sleep forsake;—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!

Through diverse paths of aeons thou hast cried,
For a morsel of manna begged and tried;
But now thou sleepest, dazed and tired, on leer
Undried lie drops of fresh-wept tears
While nectar touches thy lips,—partake,—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!

This unquenched hunger old of mine
Did eat all food and yet did pine,—
Was starved with surfeit and it sought
How might its yearn’d-for food be got.
The food for which thou wept’st awaits,—par-
  take !—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!

Friends and wealth and fancy’s rarest treat,
Posthumous wishes sprung from deathless roots
  so sweet
Did fail to feed thy heart’s true crave
And burned with thousand flaming waves
The nectar sought for seeks thee now;-—par-
  take,—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!

My hunger burned and wept to drink
The mysteries by life’s bare brink,—
Ambrosial fount that sleep beneath
The mystery caves on soil of truth:
Weep more drops, nay streams—oceans—of tears,
Thy duty is for peace to weep; thy only care
To seek thy work; and all thy food
Be what doth nourish thy mood;
Thy work is done, thy nectar’s here,—
Quench, quench the eternal ache!—
Wake, wake my sleeping Hunger, wake!

ETERNITY

Oh, will that day arrive
  When I shall ceaselessly ask, and drive
  Eternal questions
Into Thine ear, O Eternity, and await solution
As to how weak weeds do grow and stand unbent,
Unshak’n beneath the trampling current;
How the storm did wreck titanic things, rooted
  trees,
And quick disturbed the mighty seas;
How the first spark blinked, and the first tree,
The first goldfish, the first blue bird so free
And the first crooning baby
In this wonder house made their visit and entry.
They come, I see;
Their growth alone I watch;
Thy Cosmic Moulding Hand
That secret works on land and seas
I wish to seize,
O Eternity!

VANISHING BUBBLES

Many unknown bubbles float and flow,
Many ripples dance by me
And melt away in sea.
I like to know, ah, whence they come or whither
   go—

The rain drops and dies,
My thoughts play wild and vanish quick,
The red clouds melt in skies;
I stake my purse or slave all life their motive
   still to seek.

Some friends, though not their love,
Some dearest thoughts I ne’er would lose, I said,
And last night’s surest stars, seen just above,-—
All, all are fled.

The crowds of lilies, the linnet,
Perfumed blossoms, honey-mad bees,
Did meet on yonder bowered trees;
Now the lonesome field alone is left.
The bubbles, lilies, friends, dramatic thoughts—
They all their part did play and entertain,
And now beneath the grassy screen, to change
   their displayed coats,
They quiet, concealed remain.

VARIETY

I sought for twins
I could not find;
I search my mind,
No twins have seen.

They seem alike,
Man and man, beast and brute,
Yet no faces two are like;
Ne’er the same song sang the lute.

Ne’er two hearts are same.
I bow to each new form and name—
Variely complete,
Through forms infinite.

I wish that I were you and he,
And all at once what I would be;
Oh, could I wear at will all terrene minds,
Like robes of newer kinds!
   Then would I flash forth varied smiles,
   Or languorous walk in sorrow robed,
   Or charm with sparkling wiles
   And time beguile;

   Or march with martial songs,
   To right all wordly wrongs;
   Or wear a powerful prophet mind
   And into dust earth’s sorrows grind;

   Or wear the youthful hermit’s heart,
   To scatter love and strength impart.

I’d wear each heart
And don each will and smiles and spend my pelf
To try all noble minds and thoughts
And take what suits myself.

With brain-born nixes,
With marsh-marauding hopes and pixies,
With every elfin thought that timid trod on mind
I’d friendship find.

To soul of the New in things
My spirit homage sings.
I would not taste the same nectar,
Nor twice drink from th’ Immortals’ jar.

Thy presence, O Eternity,
Show Thou in endless variety;
Yet change not me,
Though various my costumes be.

THE BLOOD OF ROSE

I tore the rose,
I bled its slender stem,
Its petals quivered
And I shivered;
Yet I dared to rob its smell!
My heart did break and tell,
“Thy hands are soiled,” and mute I stood,
Thus self-condemned and stained with rose’s blood.
But I know now,
I love the rose
More than its wealth, and vow
Ne’er its love to desecrate or lose.

AT THE ROOTS OF ETERNITY

With sailing clouds and plunging breeze,
With swaying trees and youthful, stormy seas,
With whirling planets I wildly play
In some absorbing way
But not alway ;—
At close of day
I lay
My eager hands at the roots of Eternity
To seize and own its nectar free.

UNDYING BEAUTY

They did their best
And they are blest,—
The sap, the shoots,
The little leaves and roots;
The benign breath,
The touch of light,—
All worked in amity
To grow the rose’s beauty.
Watch its splendor,
Its undying grandeur,
The Infinite Face
That peeps through its little case;—
Watch not in grief
Its falling petals or its brief
Sojourn here;—
For its career
Done, its duty ends;
Toward the Immortals’ home it tends.
The sap dried,
The summer petals fled,
Its body pines;
Yet its death ’s divine;
Through death and spurns
Its deathless glory won:
The rose is dead,—
Its beauty lives instead.

THE NOBLE NEW

Sing songs that none have sung,
Think thoughts that in brain have never rung,
Walk in paths that none have trod,
Weep tears as none have shed for Lord,
Love all with love that none have felt, and brave
The battle of life with strength unchained,
Give peace to all to whom none other gave,
Claim him your own who is e’er disclaimed.

PROTECTING THORNS

The charm of the blushing rose
Hides its stinging thorns beneath;
Yet without the wounds from those
Thou could’st not snatch its wealth with stealth,—
The rose with thorns unstained with blood,
The rose that sprang from earthly sod.

In her defense the thorns do sting,
To keep thee out by thorny ring;
Yet the perfumed petals’ show
Thy drowsing soul doth wake and draw:
If thou dost love the beauty alone
Why would’st thou rush to bleed from prickly
thorns?

TATTERED GARMENT

Oh, sing no plaintive lay
When at last my earthly raiment dies,
Nor let ashes tell thy tears where it lies;
Oh, blow my tattered garment’s dust away!

The dust clean washed,
The hidden gold beneath will show
Itself anew all bright and brushed,
And shine somewhere aglow,—

And wait with luring lustre
For some home-lorn soul
To show the path with lightening glimmer
From darkness on to goal.

IN STILLNESS DARK

Hark!
In stillness dark,
When noisy dreams have slept,
The house is gone to rest,
And busy life
Doth cease from strife,—
The soul in pity soft doth kiss
The truant flesh to soothe, and speak
With mind-transcending grace
Its soundless voice of peace.

Through transient fissures deep
In walls of sleep
Take thou a gentle peep;
Nor droop, nor stare,
But watch with care
The sacred glare,
Ablaze and clear,
In golden glee
Flash past thee
So nigh.
Ashamed, Apollo droops in dread
To see that lustre spread
Through boundless reach of sky.

NATURE’S NATURE

Away, ye muses, all away,
Away with songs of finch and fay,
Away the jaundiced sight
That conflagrates the firefly’s light
To bonfire,—
That sets ablaze at once
Your musing’s burning lamps;
That ornaments with rhymes
The penury-stricken looks betimes;
That over-clothes the Logic lord
With fancy-swollen words.
Away, the partial love
That ’boldens nature to sit above
Her Maker!

This day I fasten eye-lid doors,
With absence wax my ears,
With langour all congeal my tongue, my touch,
 my tears,
That I myself may pore
  Upon the things behind, ahead
  Of the darkness ’round me spread.
  I lock Dame Nature out
  With all her fickle rout:
  Somewhere here
  In the darkness drear
  I myself with cheer
  My course will steer
In the path
E’er sought by all:
Its magnet-call
I hear.

Not here, not here
Apollo would his burning chariot steer;
Nor Dian dares to peep
Into the sacred silence deep.

Not here, not here
The mounts nor rebel waves, nor far or near,
Can make me full of fear, nor evermore
Their dreadful grandeur adore.
[continued]

Not here, not here
The soft capricious wiles of flowers,
Nor swarming storm clouds’ sweeping terror,
Nor doomsday’s thunder drear
Dismantling earth and stars,
The cosmic beauties all to mar;
  Dishevelling of trees
  And light-haired skies,
  Nor nature’s murderous mutiny
  Nor man’s all-powerful destiny
  Can touch me here.

  Not here, not here—
  Through mind’s strong iron bars
  No gods nor goblins, no men nor nature
  Without my pass dare enter.
  I look behind, ahead,
  And on naught but darkness tread.
  In wrath I strike, and set it ablaze
  With the immortal spark of thought,
  By the friction process brought

  Of concentration
  And distraction;—
  The darkness burns
  With a million tongues,
  And now I spy
  All past, all distant things as nigh.

I smile serene
As I expose to gaze
In wisdom’s brilliant blaze
All charms of the Hidden Home Unseen:
The Home of Nature’s birth,
The planets’ moulding hearth,
The factory whence all forms or fairies start,
The bards, colossal minds and hearts,
The gods and all,
And all, and all!

Away, Away
With all the lightsome lays;—
Oh, I’ll now portray
In humble way,

And try to lisp half-truths
Of wordless charms of Thee Unseen
To whom Nature her nature owes, and sheen.

MY KINSMEN

In spacious hall of trance I spied—
Aglow with million dazzling lights,
Tapestried with the snowy cloud —
My kinsmen all, lowly, proud;

The banquet great with music rolls,
The drum of Om^[1] in measure falls,
The hosts, in many ways arrayed,
Some plain, some gorgeous dress displayed.

Around the various tables large
Of earth and moon and sun and stars,
The countless mute, and noisy guests
Observed Dame Nature’s feast with zest.

The tiny-eyed and shiny sands,
Thirsty, drank of ocean’s life:
I well remember once I brawled
For a sip of sea, with kinsmen sands.
Yes, I know those old dame rocks
Who rocked me on their stony laps
When I a tiny baby tree
Did chafe to run with winds so free.

The green-attired friends I know,
With rose and lily buds aglow;
I once adorned a kingly breast,
Lost life, returned to mother dust.

I know the ruby redbreast dear,
My blood in it once flowed so clear;
I smiled in diamonds, gleaming bright,
I danced in Roentgen rays of light.

A ray of friendship from my heart
In diamond and ruby joy did start,
The bright ones smiled, the ruby wept
To meet their long-lost friend at last.

The soul of gold in yellow gown,
The soul of silver whitely shone,—
Bestowed on me maternal smiles
That told they knew me long erewhile.

The lark, the cuckoo, the pheasant sweet,
The deer, the lamb, the lion great,
The shark and monsters of the sea!
In love and peace all greeted me.

The leafy fingers, arms outspread,
Caressed me when a tiny bird,
And fed me with ambrosial fruit
That drew its life from immortal root.

When atoms and the star-dust sprang,
When Vedas, Bible, Koran sang,—
I joined each choir; their long-past thrilling songs
Still echo in my soul in accents strong.

OM

Whence, Oh, this soundless roar doth come
When drowseth matter’s dreary drum?—
The booming Om^[2] on bliss’ shore breaks;
All heaven, all earth, all body shakes.

Cords bound to flesh are broken all,
Vibrations vile do fly and fall;
The hustling heart, the boasting breath
No more disturb the yogi’s health.

The house is lulled in darkness soft,
Dim, shiny light is seen aloft,
Subconscious dreams have gone to bed.
‘Tis then that one doth hear Om’s tread.

The bumble bee doth hum along,
Baby Om, hark! sings his song;
Krishna’s flute is sounding sweet,
"Tis time the watery God to meet.
God of fire is now singing,
Om,—Om—his harp is ringing;
God of prana^[3] is now sounding,
Wondrous bell of soul resounding.

Upward climb the living tree,^[4]
Hear the sound of ethereal sea;
Marching mind doth homeward hie
To join the Christmas Symphony.

MYSTERY

Burst, inky cloud, do burst,
Fling open thy fathomless gloom!
In Thy dark chamber must
A million mysteries loom.

Heartless, staring sky!
Make quick reply
To aching query of my straining eye,
Show what thou hidest and why;—
The ceaseless surging thoughts
Go mocking, dancing by,
I deign to know their lot.
Someone did throw me free
To battle all alone in this rough sea.
Rudderless I drift,
Stranded on shoals my boat could n’t shift.

I'll burst the clouds, I'll clean the shoals,
I'll rip the sky in twain,
I’ll break my heart,
With question crush my brain—
I’ll ask and pray,
Will beg or steal
To find the friends long stolen away,
To know their woe or weal.

This wondrous day,
Stage set for play
By Unseen Hand,—
The players drop
From no-man’s land,
Then vanish away or stop
With changing scenes of birth and death.
  The drama’s on
  The actors play anon
  Yet know not why they play
   This glorious day!

SILENCE

The earth, the planets play
In and through the sun-born rays
In majesty profound.
  Umpire Time
  In silence sublime
  Doth watch
  This cosmic match.

The Author of the great game
Assumes no spoken name;—
With boundless poise
He doth His will without a noise,
  Ungrateful moods ignoring,
  Unkindness all forgiving.

Truth clearly speaks to all,
  But speaks not loud;
  They hear its call
  Who noises enthrall.
The voice in threatening silence speaks
To those who error’s path do seek.
  The tiger may be tamed,
  Failures’ talons can be maimed,
  All friends forsaking reason’s way be
   gained,
  Unruly nature trained
  By powerful silence o’ unspoken words,
  If in Truth maintained.

IT’S ALL UNKNOWN

Each rose-bud dawning day,
In hourly opening petal-rays
  Doth fair display
  Its hidden beauty.

The petal-hours, unfolding smile,
My drooping, lagging heart beguile.
Day spreads its petals all
Of novel hopes and joys withal.
  The rose-buds’ there,—
  “Today” is here;
In time the rose-bud blooms,—
While lazy day often glooms.
  Forsake thy sleep
  O, Lazy Day,
Open Thou with thy full-bloom ray
To chase my gathered gloom away!
  The rose-bud opened,
  The day now smiled
  In fullness fine;
  Still I opine
  ’Tis all unknown
Just why the rose was blown,
And the day was drowned in night
  Then raised again to light
  Of glorious dawn,
So swiftly marching o’er the lawn!

AT THE FOUNTAIN OF SONG

Dig, dig, yet deeper dig
In the stony earth for fount of song
Dig, dig, yet deeper dig
In soil of muse’s heart along.

Some sparkle is seen,
Some bubble is heard:
’T is then unseen,—
The bubble is dead.

The watery sheen
Again doth show;
Dig, dig, still deeper e’en
Till the bubble song again would grow.

I hear the song,
I see its body bright,—
Yet cannot touch—I long
To seize it now and drink its liquid light.
Bleed, O my Soul, do amply bleed
To dig yet deeper, —dig!

I touch the holy fount,— rejoice;
I drink its bubble voice
My throat’s ablaze,—
I want to drink and drink always;
The sphere’s aflame
With my thirst as I came:
So dig, dig, yet deeper dig
Though it seems thou canst not dig!

I thought with heart aglow
All, all, I had drunk this day,
And idly looked for more, deep, deep,
 below,—
But lo! undrunk, untouched,
There the fountain lay.

THE EVER NEW

Newer joys adorn the day,
Brighter burn through livelong night
The stars with purer light,
Brighter thoughts do brace my voice,
Newer words await my choice,
With heart of th’ new I ’ll sing my lay.
Wings of thoughts would ceaseless beat
The sky of time, and race to meet
Thy distant throne
That somewhere is alone.

Each and every day
Men choir some song
Not with thoughts the same but a changing throng
Of newer ones that make Thy greater lay.

The bubbling joy
Of each little boy,
Each brew of friendship still
I steal, and with them fill
Mine cup of aged heart
With ceaseless thrills to start.
Morrow each and each today
With newer love I will sing my lay.
The voices same do sing the lay
In temple church and fane:
But I deign ne’er to hear
The strains all stained with age-old tear;
My fountain flows anew today,
With newer tears will flow my lay.
In the same old church
I'll newly sing and search,
In the same old sermon
For unending truths and newer reason;
In the same old organ will I seek
The newer hopes of new-born week.

Every day, oh, every day
The bell will ring a new Sunday,
And bathed in Thy beaming ray
With newer thoughts I'll sing my lay.

THE EVER-TRODDEN PATH

This ever-trodden path
Where travelers all of earth
Do walk in joyous haste
Or slothful sorrow’s state
I walk and wonder,—
In truth or blunder.
The path is cleft
To right and left,
In front, behind;—
The diverse ways I find,
Bewildered am I—
As baffling mazes do they lie;
  Still, they say
  There’s a royal way
For all—the right, the error-wed,—
  ’Tis the sub-way path of ruby red
  Which far beneath lies hid
  For eager eyes to lead
  Straight on the feet
To where all paths do meet.

THE HUMAN MIND

I love to roam alone, unseen,
In cities of the human mind,
Untrodden by the crooked thoughts
  Vile-born,—unkind.

Incognito I wish to wander,
To living lanes my thoughts surrender
With simple wish to know and learn
The straight nice paths and danger turns.

I wish to roam in mazy lanes
Of dark and brighter thoughts,
With love to all and harm to none,
With better message fraught.

I’d love to broaden narrow lanes
Of selfish crooked thoughts
With my love’s true-building brain
That I’ve within me got.
I long to soar so high
That I at once may spy
The narrow alleys, broader roads
Of human thoughtful moods.

THE CUP OF ETERNITY

The traveler of the endless track
All weary, thirsty, sore doth seek
To quench the quenchless mortal thirst,
The wordless worry of his heart.

He spies a cup —a little orb,
He tries to drink with joyful sob,
He stands aback, the cup sets down,—
On the contents scant his heart did frown.

Yet up he lifts the cup again,
But fears his baneful thirst to flame.
When, hark! a voice of counsel deep
Forbids him this to soil with lip.

The cup so small to mortal eye,—
The cup whose depth the wise can spy
Dries up, alas! if mortals drink;
Perennial fount, the soulful think.
Now, in the little cup he’ll see
The unsounded deep of eternity;
For ageless hours and endless days
The ambrosial drink he'll taste and praise.

The deathly thirst so fleshly born
Ne’er shall parch his soul again;
The cup he’ll drink, but not the bane,
To quench his thirst, and bliss attain.
And vain would mighty north winds try
Compassion’s gathered tears to dry.

A MIRROR NEW

I bring to you
A mirror new—
A glass of introspection clear,
That illusions shows and sooty fear
That spots thy mind.
Thou wilt find
This mirror new
  Would also show all true
  The “Inner You,”
That’s veiled in flesh
And doth ne’er appear.
Each night consult afresh
Thy mirror friend and clear away
The dust that gathers each day.

THE SPELL

Ah, this old, old nectar of night
Brewed below by Sun God bright!—
Let every little fleshly cell
That’s tired and thirsty drink it well.
By soothing spell of sleep eject
All aches that heart and brain infect!
The spell quick marching on
Falls on me now so warm,
And robs my mind
Of linked thoughts, to bind
Me prisoner in its charm.

1. Cosmic vibration.
2. Cosmic vibration.
3. Vibration of life energy.
4. Spinal cord