Words for the Chisel (collection)/Doomsday Morning
Doomsday Morning
Dear to God who calls and walks
Until the earth aches with his tread,
Summoning the sulky dead,
We'll wedge and stiffen under rocks,
Or be mistaken for a stone,
And signal as children do, "Lie low,"
Wait and wait for God to go.
Until the earth aches with his tread,
Summoning the sulky dead,
We'll wedge and stiffen under rocks,
Or be mistaken for a stone,
And signal as children do, "Lie low,"
Wait and wait for God to go.
The risen will think we slumber on
Like slug-a-beds. When they have gone
Trooped up before the Judgment Throne,—
We in the vacant earth alone—
Abandoned by ambitious souls,
And deaf to God who calls and walks
Like an engine overhead
Driving the disheveled dead,—
We will rise and crack the ground
Tear the roots and heave the rocks,
And billow the surface where God walks,
And God will listen to the sound
And know that lovers are below
Working havoc till they creep
Together from their sundered sleep.
Like slug-a-beds. When they have gone
Trooped up before the Judgment Throne,—
We in the vacant earth alone—
Abandoned by ambitious souls,
And deaf to God who calls and walks
Like an engine overhead
Driving the disheveled dead,—
We will rise and crack the ground
Tear the roots and heave the rocks,
And billow the surface where God walks,
And God will listen to the sound
And know that lovers are below
Working havoc till they creep
Together from their sundered sleep.
Then end, world! Let your final darkness fall!
And God may call and call and call.
And God may call and call and call.