English

The sun of the century sets amidst the blood-red clouds of the West and the whirlwind of hatred
The naked passion of self-love of Nations, in its drunken delirium of greed, is dancing to the clash of steel and the howling verses of vengeance.
The hungry self of the Nation shall burst in a violence of fury from its own shameless feeding.
For it has made the world its food,
And licking it, crunching it, and swallowing it in big morsels,
It swells and swells

I CALLED you, fiery spirits, and ye came!
Earth was the earth no more; the solid ground
Was as a maze of cloud-like glories found,
The sun was music and the wind was flame.
A rainbow shone about the sacred name
Of all the virtues. Thought in rapture drowned,
Wild ecstasy it was to hear the sound,
The fluttering of the wings of Love and Fame.
I called you, fiery spirits! When your task
Was over, faint, weary, and short of breath,
I would have driven you hence. I did but ask
The old life that I led, the life beneath.

I, your true lover,
Demand neither words nor your silence.
My heart can discover
Delight in transport or in continence.

My faith is zenith, earth, and air,
Ever beneath, about, above,
And when you wander I am there,
So changing-constant—since I love.

All Nature seems to feel the power—
The gracious influence of the time;
The quickening sun, the fostering shower
Of the returning prime;
The tranquil and the lessening night,
The genial and the lengthening day,
Which moves us with a new delight,
And speak of coming May.

Trees bourgeon into leafy grace;
The hedgerows wear a vernal fleece;
The brooklets leave a greener trace
Along their paths of peace:
A flower-light dawns upon the leas;
The woodland nooks grow sweetly gay;
And whispers every passing breeze,

Here is the cloth whereon the dew and sun
Fashion their bright embroideries of bloom;
For dreams a pillow, and, when dreams are done,
A fragrant cover for the dreamless tomb.

When from a game of dice away they turn,
He who hath been the loser stays behind,
Repeats the throws, and sorrowful doth learn:
And with the winner all the crowd ye find;
Some after, some before, they strive, that he
Their suit would still be pleased to bear in mind.
He does not stay to hear what each may be;
But gives and listens as he goes along:
And he who hath received then leaves him free.
Even so was I, in this tumultuous throng;
Turning to them, now here, now there, my face,
And promising to aid them with my song.

When in the fulness of our heart's content,
Or 'mid the suffering of some sharpest pain,
The spirit wholly is thereon intent,
Then can it to no other thought attain;
And this disproves the error which believes
Soul above soul our nature doth contain.
Thus when the mind some outward thing receives,
Which holds it fixëdly by sight or sound,
The flight of time no longer it perceives;
Because one faculty within is found
That listens, and the rest all dormant lie,
For they are free, the other as if bound:

Although the suddenness with which we fled
Had scatter'd all the wanderers, who now
Turn'd to the mount again where reason led,
Still to my faithful guide I clung, for how,
Without his aid, could I have held my course?
Who would have dragg'd me up the mountain's brow?
He seem'd in his own thoughts to feel remorse:
O conscience quick and pure, that even the least,
The slightest fault dost bitterly rehearse!
Now when his steps had ceasëd from the haste,
Befitting ill the form of Majesty,
My mind, that all within itself was placed,

Now let my fancy's ship unfurl her sail,
Her course o'er smoother waters to begin,
And leave behind her all the sea of wail;
And of that second kingdom will I sing,
Where pain each mortal spirit purifies
Ere it can upward soar on heavenward wing.
Here let my Lay from Death once more arise,
O Muses, since to you do I belong,
And here Calliopë in tuneful guise
Appear, and bring with her, to aid my song,
The selfsame melody which erst they knew
Who mourn, as chattering jays, their hopeless wrong.

Give them just a little love,
These poor creatures with no traces
Of the lovely in their faces.
Though they take your gift with scorning,
Though they grieve you night and morning;
In the name of God above,
Give them just a little love.

Give them just a little love,
Touch their hands in friendly fashion,
Speak to them in kind compassion,
Tell them of the Heavenly City,
With its everlasting pity,
In the name of God above;
Give them just a little love.

Give them just a little love,