Declaration of a Younger Poet
THE vehemence of our poetry was muffled
All through the Babylonian years when idlers
Required a song of us, and for our strumming
Hung musical boxes on the willow trees,
Crying ‘give us a song, the song we dream of!’
All through the Babylonian years when idlers
Required a song of us, and for our strumming
Hung musical boxes on the willow trees,
Crying ‘give us a song, the song we dream of!’
What music we made was little and sadly heard
And seldom called for hearing, murmuring
Within our private selves, or if profounder
Then grating to hear, a sound of scrannel pipes,
Our own heart’s jarring cracked, and exactly proclaiming
Man the political animal at his discord,
And some sang politics but did not sing.
And seldom called for hearing, murmuring
Within our private selves, or if profounder
Then grating to hear, a sound of scrannel pipes,
Our own heart’s jarring cracked, and exactly proclaiming
Man the political animal at his discord,
And some sang politics but did not sing.
Yet neither worse nor better than our people
We came by many a passage this way bound,
Each finding in his heart one fear, one music,
All asking question this way and that for courage.
My fear was on the willow trees of Hamburg,
Regarding the first long winter of Hitler’s strength
Rising in animal glory, a sheen on the fur.
Men’s faces were changed; I knew loathing to know
That battle was joined, beyond my power to escape.
And as the waste land altered into jungle,
We altered with it, poem joined with poem,
Heart joined with heart against the absolute danger,
Fighting content to take a common chance
As we now fight, and sing when there is time.
We came by many a passage this way bound,
Each finding in his heart one fear, one music,
All asking question this way and that for courage.
My fear was on the willow trees of Hamburg,
Regarding the first long winter of Hitler’s strength
Rising in animal glory, a sheen on the fur.
Men’s faces were changed; I knew loathing to know
That battle was joined, beyond my power to escape.
And as the waste land altered into jungle,
We altered with it, poem joined with poem,
Heart joined with heart against the absolute danger,
Fighting content to take a common chance
As we now fight, and sing when there is time.
Our song is hard, biting as deep as danger,
Facing the proud unhurried fact of evil,
Here in the middle of our own heart’s battle;
For hard the job we have tackled, holding on
With little breath for singing; but in the night
Watching the stars and searchlights on your beat,
If night is quiet and innocent of guns,
Then you shall have good song, if time to listen.
And holding so, glad if we stand our ground.
Without the loss of love, we not much fear.
If I am overcome, let me be silenced,
It will not matter: like the man at Maldon
Facing the proud unhurried fact of evil,
Here in the middle of our own heart’s battle;
For hard the job we have tackled, holding on
With little breath for singing; but in the night
Watching the stars and searchlights on your beat,
If night is quiet and innocent of guns,
Then you shall have good song, if time to listen.
And holding so, glad if we stand our ground.
Without the loss of love, we not much fear.
If I am overcome, let me be silenced,
It will not matter: like the man at Maldon
Against the Vikings, let me cry who fail
‘Mood higher as might lessens’; such a song
Will live, others will give it voice enough.
If we survive, then as our might and main
Get stronger, these our voices shall louder cry
With a new note and a more confident joy.
‘Mood higher as might lessens’; such a song
Will live, others will give it voice enough.
If we survive, then as our might and main
Get stronger, these our voices shall louder cry
With a new note and a more confident joy.