Renascence

    All I could see from where I stood

    Was three long mountains and a wood；

    I turned and looked another way，

    And saw three islands in a bay.

    So with my eyes I traced the line

    Of the horizon， thin and fine，

    Straight around till I was come

    Back to where I'd started from；

    And all I saw from where I stood

    Was three long mountains and a wood.

    Over these things I could not see；

    These were the things that bounded me；

    And I could touch them with my hand，

    Almost， I thought， from where I stand.

    And all at once things seemed so small

    My breath came short， and scarce at all.

    But， sure， the sky is big， I said；

    Miles and miles above my head；

    So here upon my back I'll lie

    And look my fill into the sky.

    And so I looked， and， after all，

    The sky was not so very tall.

    The sky， I said， must somewhere stop，

    And  sure enough！ I see the top！

    The sky， I thought， is not so grand；

    I 'most could touch it with my hand！

    And reaching up my hand to try，

    I screamed to feel it touch the sky.

    I screamed， and —lo！  Infinity

    Came down and settled over me；

    Forced back my scream into my chest，

    Bent back my arm upon my breast，

    And， pressing of the Undefined

    The definition on my mind，

    Held up before my eyes a glass

    Through which my shrinking sight did pass

    Until it seemed I must behold

    Immensity made manifold；

    Whispered to me a word whose sound

    Deafened the air for worlds around，

    And brought unmuffled to my ears

    The gossiping of friendly spheres，

    The creaking of the tented sky，

    The ticking of Eternity.

    I saw and heard， and knew at last

    The How and Why of all things， past，

    And present， and forevermore.

    The Universe， cleft to the core，

    Lay open to my probing sense

    That， sick'ning， I would fain pluck thence

    But could not，  nay！ But needs must suck

    At the great wound， and could not pluck

    My lips away till I had drawn

    All venom out.  Ah， fearful pawn！

    For my omniscience paid I toll

    In infinite remorse of soul.

    All sin was of my sinning， all

    Atoning mine， and mine the gall

    Of all regret. Mine was the weight

    Of every brooded wrong， the hate

    That stood behind each envious thrust，

    Mine every greed， mine every lust.

    And all the while for every grief，

    Each suffering， I craved relief

    With individual desire，

    Craved all in vain！ And felt fierce fire

    About a thousand people crawl；

    Perished with each，then mourned for all！

    A man was starving in Capri；

    He moved his eyes and looked at me；

    I felt his gaze， I heard his moan，

    And knew his hunger as my own.

    I saw at sea a great fog bank

    Between two ships that struck and sank；

    A thousand screams the heavens smote；

    And every scream tore through my throat.

    No hurt I did not feel， no death

    That was not mine； mine each last breath

    That， crying， met an answering cry

    From the compassion that was I.

    All suffering mine， and mine its rod；

    Mine， pity like the pity of God.

    Ah， awful weight！ Infinity

    Pressed down upon the finite Me！

    My anguished spirit， like a bird，

    Beating against my lips I heard；

    Yet lay the weight so close about

    There was no room for it without.

    And so beneath the weight lay I

    And suffered death， but could not die.

    Long had I lain thus， craving death，

    When quietly the earth beneath

    Gave way， and inch by inch， so great

    At last had grown the crushing weight，

    Into the earth I sank till I

    Full six feet under ground did lie，

    And sank no more，there is no weight

    Can follow here， however great.

    From off my breast I felt it roll，

    And as it went my tortured soul

    Burst forth and fled in such a gust

    That all about me swirled the dust.

    Deep in the earth I rested now；

    Cool is its hand upon the brow

    And soft its breast beneath the head

    Of one who is so gladly dead.

    And all at once， and over all

    The pitying rain began to fall；

    I lay and heard each pattering hoof

    Upon my lowly， thatched roof，

    And seemed to love the sound far more

    Than ever I had done before.

    For rain it hath a friendly sound

    To one who's six feet underground；

    And scarce the friendly voice or face：

    A grave is such a quiet place.

    The rain， I said， is kind to come

    And speak to me in my new home.

    I would I were alive again

    To kiss the fingers of the rain，

    To drink into my eyes the shine

    Of every slanting silver line，

    To catch the freshened， fragrant breeze

    From drenched and dripping apple-trees.

    For soon the shower will be done，

    And then the broad face of the sun

    Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth

    Until the world with answering mirth

    Shakes joyously， and each round drop

    Rolls， twinkling， from its grass-blade top.

    How can I bear it； buried here，

    While overhead the sky grows clear

    And blue again after the storm？

    O， multi-colored， multiform，

    Beloved beauty over me，

    That I shall never， never see

    Again！ Spring-silver， autumn-gold，

    That I shall never more behold！

    Sleeping your myriad magics through，

    Close-sepulchred away from you！

    O God， I cried， give me new birth，

    And put me back upon the earth！

    Upset each cloud's gigantic gourd

    And let the heavy rain， down-poured

    In one big torrent， set me free，

    Washing my grave away from me！

    I ceased； and through the breathless hush

    That answered me， the far-off rush

    Of herald wings came whispering

    Like music down the vibrant string

    Of my ascending prayer， and crash！

    Before the wild wind's whistling lash

    The startled storm-clouds reared on high

    And plunged in terror down the sky，

    And the big rain in one black wave

    Fell from the sky and struck my grave.

    I know not how such things can be；

    I only know there came to me

    A fragrance such as never clings

    To aught save happy living things；

    A sound as of some joyous elf

    Singing sweet songs to please himself，

    And， through and over everything，

    A sense of glad awakening.

    The grass， a-tiptoe at my ear，

    Whispering to me I could hear；

    I felt the rain's cool finger-tips

    Brushed tenderly across my lips，

    Laid gently on my sealed sight，

    And all at once the heavy night

    Fell from my eyes and I could see，

    A drenched and dripping apple-tree，

    A last long line of silver rain，

    A sky grown clear and blue again.

    And as I looked a quickening gust

    Of wind blew up to me and thrust

    Into my face a miracle

    Of orchard-breath， and with the smell，

    I know not how such things can be！

    I breathed my soul back into me.

    Ah！ Up then from the ground sprang I

    And hailed the earth with such a cry

    As is not heard save from a man

    Who has been dead， and lives again.

    About the trees my arms I wound；

    Like one gone mad I hugged the ground；

    I raised my quivering arms on high；

    I laughed and laughed into the sky，

    Till at my throat a strangling sob

    Caught fiercely， and a great heart-throb

    Sent instant tears into my eyes；

    O God， I cried， no dark disguise

    Can e'er hereafter hide from me

    Thy radiant identity！

    Thou canst not move across the grass

    But my quick eyes will see Thee pass，

    Nor speak， however silently，

    But my hushed voice will answer Thee.

    I know the path that tells Thy way

    Through the cool eve of every day；

    God， I can push the grass apart

    And lay my finger on Thy heart！

    The world stands out on either side

    No wider than the heart is wide；

    Above the world is stretched the sky，

    No higher than the soul is high.

    The heart can push the sea and land

    Farther away on either hand；

    The soul can split the sky in two，

    And let the face of God shine through.

    But East and West will pinch the heart

    That can not keep them pushed apart；

    And he whose soul is flat  the sky

    Will cave in on him by and by.