Page:Poems Barrett.djvu/286

Help me, God! slay me, man!—one is mourning for both!"
And we stand up, though young, near the funeral-sheet
Which covers the Caesar and old Pharamond:
And death is so nigh us, Life cools from its heat—
        O Life, O Beyond,
      Art thou fair,—art thou sweet?

Then we act to a purpose—we spring up erect—
We will tame the wild mouths of the wilderness-steeds;
We will plough up the deep in the ships double-decked;
We will build the great cities, and do the great deeds,—
Strike the steel upon steel, strike the soul upon soul,
Strike the dole on the weal, overcoming the dole,—
Let the cloud meet the cloud in a grand thunder-roll!
While the eagle of Thought rides the tempest in scorn,
Who cares if the lightning is burning the corn?
"Let us sit on the thrones
In a purple sublimity,
And grind down men's bones
To a pale unanimity!
Speed me, God! serve me, man!—I am god over men!
When I speak in my cloud, none shall answer again—
'Neath the stripe and the bond,
Lie and mourn at my feet!"—
O thou Life, O Beyond,
Thou art strange, thou art sweet!

Then we grow into thought,—and with inward ascensions
      Touch the bounds of our Being!
We lie in the dark here, swathed doubly around
With our sensual relations and social conventions,—
Yet are 'ware of a sight, yet are 'ware of a sound
      Beyond Hearing and Seeing,—
Are aware that a Hades rolls deep on all sides,
      With its infinite tides,
About and above us,—until the strong arch
Of our life creaks and bends as if ready for falling,
And through all the dim rolling, we hear the sweet calling