Aignish on the Machair
When day and night are over,
And the World is done with me,
Oh carry me. West and lay me
In Aignish by the Sea.
And never heed me lying
Among the ancient dead,
Beside the white sea breakers
And sand-drift overhead.
The grey gulls wheeling ever,
And the wide arch of sky,
On Aignish on the Machair,
And quiet there to lie.
I hear the laugh of the unfed children:
The children of rich cities so poor and of fertile farms so sterile—
The children who laugh in the face of hunger and laugh in the face of despair:
It comes to me at mealtime when I am happy about myself and there seems to be nothing to mend in the perfect world:
The laugh of the children bitterer than a wail—the laugh of the children more wretched than grief.
Why do you laugh, my children? Why dont you cry? It would not hurt me near so much!
I hear it day and night, up or in bed, moving round or standing still:
It is borne to me out of the bottommost deeps of distress to the topmost pinnacle of my dreams—
The gorged laugh of starvation, the victorious laugh of the lost, the homesped laugh of the outcast.
I hear your laugh, dear children: I do not mistake it: I am wild with it:
And I know that your laugh so filled with tears is the laugh of innocents who do not know.
O divine children! you are choked and suffocated and dying and dont know why:
But I know why: and I will tell you why and I will tell all why:
I will go to the upstarts who have drawn prizes, who satisfiedly sleep, and tell them why,
And I will arouse the whole earth to an irresistible resentment.
Now I go with your laugh in my ears:
I go into the main paths among the chosen and the proud:
I go repeating your laugh—passing it on sure that no one will refuse to hear:
Wherever the great men and women live and work, there I go:
For the great men and women must be the first to hear (must they not be the first?):
Wherever genius lives and works there I go repeating your laugh bitterer than a cry:
Wherever the arts flourish and science shines and masters rule, there I go:
Whether in the parlors or the statehouses or the galleries, there I go:
Not making your laugh worse or better—not accenting its downcast note—the laugh more sorrowful than a wail:
Taking it for granted that the eyes and ears of the great and their hearts will answer your accusation with instant shame.
God! what is this they tell me?
The world is too busy: the world has no time to hear:
The world is too busy: the world has no time to love:
The world is too busy: the world has no time to be just.
O you million blasphemies in one blasphemy: is it this I hear?
That the world is too busy?—that the world sends me back with empty hands?
Listen, O my brothers: you will understand if you listen:
You will hear the laugh of the children bitterer than a cry and then you will hear something else:
Yes, something else bitterer even than the laugh of my unfed children:
Yes, something else more fearful to reckon with than the pain of my unfed children who laugh while their hearts break:
Listen, O my brothers: you will hear and you will understand.
The lawyer nears nothing: Leave me to my brief, says the lawyer:
The naturalist hears nothing: Leave me to my bugs, says the naturalist:
The poet hears nothing: Leave me to my rhymes, says the poet:
The musician hears nothing: Leave me to my songs, says the musician:
The President hears nothing: Leave me to my big stick, says the President:
And so though I repeat the laugh of my children bitterer than a wail they do not hear:
None of the leaders of men hear the laugh of men: not one hears:
None of the autocrats of culture hear the laugh of the unlettered: not one hears:
I go everywhere: I am everywhere doubted, everywhere rejected, everywhere ignored:
Leave us to our ambition, they all say: leave them to their death, they all say:
The scholar in the cloister blows dust off the books: does he hear?
What is it? he asks: and he says he hears nothing: do I?
And the priest dodging religion round his pulpit: does he hear?
What is it? he asks: and he says he hears nothing: do I?
With the air full of sound all being deaf and full of sight all being blind.
My children: I guess the best people do not hear your worst laugh:
I guess the old apologists of old systems and the old interpreters of old saviors hear no new cries:
They can hear a cry a thousand years ago brought down by echoes of echoes of scripture:
They can do that, my children: all of them can do that: all of them:
But they hear nothing when you cry on their doorstep in the frozen night.
Do not give up, my children: they do not hear you: but I hear you:
I do not think your cries are farther off than the haunting cries of the long since dead:
The cry of the living is the only cry of the dead I can hear:
I take the living in my arms: I welcome the living to more life:
I hear your laugh O my unfed children!
And the World is done with me,
Oh carry me. West and lay me
In Aignish by the Sea.
And never heed me lying
Among the ancient dead,
Beside the white sea breakers
And sand-drift overhead.
The grey gulls wheeling ever,
And the wide arch of sky,
On Aignish on the Machair,
And quiet there to lie.
I hear the laugh of the unfed children:
The children of rich cities so poor and of fertile farms so sterile—
The children who laugh in the face of hunger and laugh in the face of despair:
It comes to me at mealtime when I am happy about myself and there seems to be nothing to mend in the perfect world:
The laugh of the children bitterer than a wail—the laugh of the children more wretched than grief.
Why do you laugh, my children? Why dont you cry? It would not hurt me near so much!
I hear it day and night, up or in bed, moving round or standing still:
It is borne to me out of the bottommost deeps of distress to the topmost pinnacle of my dreams—
The gorged laugh of starvation, the victorious laugh of the lost, the homesped laugh of the outcast.
I hear your laugh, dear children: I do not mistake it: I am wild with it:
And I know that your laugh so filled with tears is the laugh of innocents who do not know.
O divine children! you are choked and suffocated and dying and dont know why:
But I know why: and I will tell you why and I will tell all why:
I will go to the upstarts who have drawn prizes, who satisfiedly sleep, and tell them why,
And I will arouse the whole earth to an irresistible resentment.
Now I go with your laugh in my ears:
I go into the main paths among the chosen and the proud:
I go repeating your laugh—passing it on sure that no one will refuse to hear:
Wherever the great men and women live and work, there I go:
For the great men and women must be the first to hear (must they not be the first?):
Wherever genius lives and works there I go repeating your laugh bitterer than a cry:
Wherever the arts flourish and science shines and masters rule, there I go:
Whether in the parlors or the statehouses or the galleries, there I go:
Not making your laugh worse or better—not accenting its downcast note—the laugh more sorrowful than a wail:
Taking it for granted that the eyes and ears of the great and their hearts will answer your accusation with instant shame.
God! what is this they tell me?
The world is too busy: the world has no time to hear:
The world is too busy: the world has no time to love:
The world is too busy: the world has no time to be just.
O you million blasphemies in one blasphemy: is it this I hear?
That the world is too busy?—that the world sends me back with empty hands?
Listen, O my brothers: you will understand if you listen:
You will hear the laugh of the children bitterer than a cry and then you will hear something else:
Yes, something else bitterer even than the laugh of my unfed children:
Yes, something else more fearful to reckon with than the pain of my unfed children who laugh while their hearts break:
Listen, O my brothers: you will hear and you will understand.
The lawyer nears nothing: Leave me to my brief, says the lawyer:
The naturalist hears nothing: Leave me to my bugs, says the naturalist:
The poet hears nothing: Leave me to my rhymes, says the poet:
The musician hears nothing: Leave me to my songs, says the musician:
The President hears nothing: Leave me to my big stick, says the President:
And so though I repeat the laugh of my children bitterer than a wail they do not hear:
None of the leaders of men hear the laugh of men: not one hears:
None of the autocrats of culture hear the laugh of the unlettered: not one hears:
I go everywhere: I am everywhere doubted, everywhere rejected, everywhere ignored:
Leave us to our ambition, they all say: leave them to their death, they all say:
The scholar in the cloister blows dust off the books: does he hear?
What is it? he asks: and he says he hears nothing: do I?
And the priest dodging religion round his pulpit: does he hear?
What is it? he asks: and he says he hears nothing: do I?
With the air full of sound all being deaf and full of sight all being blind.
My children: I guess the best people do not hear your worst laugh:
I guess the old apologists of old systems and the old interpreters of old saviors hear no new cries:
They can hear a cry a thousand years ago brought down by echoes of echoes of scripture:
They can do that, my children: all of them can do that: all of them:
But they hear nothing when you cry on their doorstep in the frozen night.
Do not give up, my children: they do not hear you: but I hear you:
I do not think your cries are farther off than the haunting cries of the long since dead:
The cry of the living is the only cry of the dead I can hear:
I take the living in my arms: I welcome the living to more life:
I hear your laugh O my unfed children!
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