Echoes of Earth
The sky and sea speak loud,
But the earth speaks clear.
Put an ear to the ground.
Listen. You will hear.
But the earth speaks clear.
Put an ear to the ground.
Listen. You will hear.
On this tall hill, between the sea and sky,
Black winds of war blow death; sharp spray is flying;
The iron mouths of clouds flash fire from high
On valleys where the sons of man are dying.
Black winds of war blow death; sharp spray is flying;
The iron mouths of clouds flash fire from high
On valleys where the sons of man are dying.
The lines of surf burst into ghostly bloom;
The dark sea groans; I crouch against the ground;
Here in the grass, the hurrying winds of doom
Pass close above me in a dome of sound.
The dark sea groans; I crouch against the ground;
Here in the grass, the hurrying winds of doom
Pass close above me in a dome of sound.
Under my heart, now, I can feel a beating,
A pulse, not mine; profounder than my own,
As though earth had a heart which kept repeating,
In time with mine, a tale it must make known.
A pulse, not mine; profounder than my own,
As though earth had a heart which kept repeating,
In time with mine, a tale it must make known.
There are no words to that deep murmuring,
But, as a shell holds echoes of the sea,
Earth echoes bygone steps; their tramp and swing
March in the pulse that marches now with me:
But, as a shell holds echoes of the sea,
Earth echoes bygone steps; their tramp and swing
March in the pulse that marches now with me:
Steps, where Manhattan meets the waterside,
Of deerhide moccasin and wooden shoe,
The varnished British boot, and then the tide
Of trudgers through the gateway to the new,
Of deerhide moccasin and wooden shoe,
The varnished British boot, and then the tide
Of trudgers through the gateway to the new,
Wave after wave of trudgers from despair,
Lemmings of night, migrating to the dawn,
From the first felons cropped of ear and hair
To the last Polish women tramping on
Lemmings of night, migrating to the dawn,
From the first felons cropped of ear and hair
To the last Polish women tramping on
Behind an eight-piece band, a starry flag,
Marching around the block, a small fierce stream,
Dark, heavy, resolute for this good land,
The newest, soberest children of the dream.
Marching around the block, a small fierce stream,
Dark, heavy, resolute for this good land,
The newest, soberest children of the dream.
The sky and sea speak loud,
But the earth speaks clear.
Put an ear to the ground.
Listen. Can you hear?
But the earth speaks clear.
Put an ear to the ground.
Listen. Can you hear?
I hear the red-topped boots of Mackinaw,
The calks and peaveys that laid low a span
Of solid forest from the State of Maine
To Minnesota where the plains began.
The calks and peaveys that laid low a span
Of solid forest from the State of Maine
To Minnesota where the plains began.
I hear the creak of wagons as they head
West toward the buffaloes’ deep surf-like sound;
I hear the Indian ponies’ barefoot tread,
And then the sweating squadron’s heavy pound.
West toward the buffaloes’ deep surf-like sound;
I hear the Indian ponies’ barefoot tread,
And then the sweating squadron’s heavy pound.
Where snow peaks reach the running light of morning
The travois poles drag through the meadow grass;
The mountain sheep stamps his tattoo of warning
Against the trapper’s pack mules as they pass.
The travois poles drag through the meadow grass;
The mountain sheep stamps his tattoo of warning
Against the trapper’s pack mules as they pass.
The rumble still creeps up across the plains
Of trail herds driving from the Rio Grande
And, cutting like a knife that leaves dark stains,
The bright plow rustles as it breaks the land.
Of trail herds driving from the Rio Grande
And, cutting like a knife that leaves dark stains,
The bright plow rustles as it breaks the land.
The sky and sea speak loud,
But the earth speaks clear.
Put an ear to the ground.
Listen. Can you hear ?
But the earth speaks clear.
Put an ear to the ground.
Listen. Can you hear ?
On keys the nesting turtle plows the sand,
On hills the foxhound sniffs the bright red clay,
And all between a slow sound shakes the land,
Soft as a panther, strong as Judgment Day,
On hills the foxhound sniffs the bright red clay,
And all between a slow sound shakes the land,
Soft as a panther, strong as Judgment Day,
The sound of broad black feet, unfree, unshod,
That leave a print of suffering on earth’s face,
The drag and clink of shackles down the road,
The lonesome road to freedom for a race:
That leave a print of suffering on earth’s face,
The drag and clink of shackles down the road,
The lonesome road to freedom for a race:
Lonesome and endless, flecked by prides and shames,
By lights and shades thought never shall untangle,
Silver in moonlight, crimson in the flames
That rage from Sumpter to the Bloody Angle,
By lights and shades thought never shall untangle,
Silver in moonlight, crimson in the flames
That rage from Sumpter to the Bloody Angle,
The sky and sea speak loud,
But the earth speaks clear.
Put an ear to the ground.
Listen. Can you hear?
But the earth speaks clear.
Put an ear to the ground.
Listen. Can you hear?
The widow’s heels tap on the Captain’s Walk,
The scholars’ heels tap on the schoolroom floors
In trim seaports where shipwrights rig and calk
And merchants bring old beauty to new shores.
The scholars’ heels tap on the schoolroom floors
In trim seaports where shipwrights rig and calk
And merchants bring old beauty to new shores.
The captains’ anchors bite the holding ground
Of roadsteads where Sierras stand up bold
And crews jump ship in every cove and sound
To build quick splendor out of blood and gold.
Of roadsteads where Sierras stand up bold
And crews jump ship in every cove and sound
To build quick splendor out of blood and gold.
The nuggets rattle on the polished bars
And cities rise and blossom in the sun
And men imagine in the very stars
Sure promises that now their peace is won,
And cities rise and blossom in the sun
And men imagine in the very stars
Sure promises that now their peace is won,
Sure promises of safety and of ease,
On which they lean and think all risks are past
Until their feathery eucalyptus trees
Begin to tremble in this present blast.
On which they lean and think all risks are past
Until their feathery eucalyptus trees
Begin to tremble in this present blast.
The sky and sea speak loud,
But the earth speaks clear.
Put an ear to the ground.
Listen. Can you hear ?
But the earth speaks clear.
Put an ear to the ground.
Listen. Can you hear ?
One moment more I crouch and bow my head
To earth, unshaken by the charged clouds’ thunder,
To earth whose pulse is beating to the tread
Of all my forebears who lie silent under.
To earth, unshaken by the charged clouds’ thunder,
To earth whose pulse is beating to the tread
Of all my forebears who lie silent under.
I touch the ground in sign that I have heard.
Old earth, I need no more from you to me;
My heart is marching to your steady word;
I stand up now to face the sky and sea.
Old earth, I need no more from you to me;
My heart is marching to your steady word;
I stand up now to face the sky and sea.
I do not know the ending to this day
Or how much of our hope is lost or won,
But trust that at the end I, too, can say
To the unborn who follow:
Or how much of our hope is lost or won,
But trust that at the end I, too, can say
To the unborn who follow:
Daughter. . . . Son,
The sky and sea speak loud,
But the earth speaks clear.
Put an ear to the ground.
Listen. You will hear.
The sky and sea speak loud,
But the earth speaks clear.
Put an ear to the ground.
Listen. You will hear.