Shingle-Short and Other Verses/The Paddock - Song of the Ti
The Paddock.
Song of the Ti.
Hail, eyes of the Sun!
Welcome, wanderer Wind!
Little have I to give,
Now, but a welcome kind.
For my drooping ribbons are split and sere,
My flowers faded, this many a year,
And my sap is drowsy-dry.
Waters, rippling at my foot,
Will ye miss the uneager root?
Stay no more my sagging strength—
Down, O Earth, this log of length
Draw, and let it lie!
O fresh and new-found Brethren, take my toil,
Take, take my share in Sun, and Air and Soil,—
And let me die!
Summon’d, once, by the Sun,
Bid by the Air to birth,
Coax’d by the calling Rain,
Woo’d and guided to gain,
I sprang from the speeding Earth.
And the Earth upheld me, the Sunlight sought,
Help the Dews and the Breezes brought;
Flowing full to a narrow issue,
The making, marrying Forces wrought
Out of nothingness, out of nought,
Sap that circled, and good green tissue.
Till the seedling sprang to a lusty sprout,
The stem shot high, and a Star shone out,
Star upon Star shone round about—
Brightness up in the Blue!
As, a throne to the seated Sun,
A voice to the Wind and Rain,
A gem to the breast of Earth,
A dwelling for Balms and Dew,
Up, out of myself I drew;
Then, out of myself again
On, into a mother grew!
Shining, shimmering, singing, among
Every year a goodlier throng—
The Wind taught words to their delicate echo,
The Light lay fondling their tresses long;
Every year, a wealthier shimmer,
Every season, a fuller song....
Hark! loud the Storm-wind blows,
Rips, rends, and lashes!
Sun-red the Fire glows,
Blood-red it flashes!
Lo! where my Young-ones rose!....
Lo! where the Clover grows
Rich from their ashes!
Ay! still by Earth and Skies,
By the Light, cherish’d,
Lo! where in alter’d guise
Round me they still arise—
Alter’d, nor perish’d!
While the Powers that built and framed,
Yea, that prosper’d me, and maim’d,
Here, still here, my station claim’d,
Still unto their purpose bound me
Here, and here what fruits have found me,
Lonely left, but unashamed!
“A throne to the sealed sun
A dwelling for balms and dew.”
For the Tui hath eaten, the Robin hath rested,
Little Makers of life in my bosom have nested:
To hot and heavy Midsummer sheep
Cool have I given, and shelter’d sleep:
I have added a smile to the Paddock’s face:
I have fill’d with a picture a lonely place:
I have made the feet of the Breezes bright,
Held a glass to the eyes of Light,
Made Hearing happy, and sweeten’d Sight!
I have changed the sum of the World—
There is nothing wholly the same
As it was ere the first little root,
The first little shoot of me came.—
The voyaging oceans of the Air,
Me refreshing, refreshed were:
My leaves from the sunlight gathering green,
Rippled and re-illum’d the sheen:
Still the Wind that strikes my leaves
Part of its own push receives:
Humbly housekeeping, my root
Did the Paddock soil transmute,
And by simply standing, I
Joined have the Earth and Sky.
Yea, a myriad Ministries,
Silent, secret Agencies,
Pulsing on their world-wide race,
Me have trodden, as a bridge,
Me have made their meeting-place:
And traffic of an untold range
Hath held me market and exchange.
—Yea, though now I fail, forbid
Of all offices bereft,
Nothing doing that I did,
All I did is left!
—Yea, though root and leaf decay,
Still incessant, night and day,
Through my lowly passage-way,
Do Divine Transactions run,
And Deathless Deeds are done.
Plann’d thus, provided,
Given and guided,
My little measure of measureless might
(By the Great Hands that made,
Mightily wielded)
Service hath yielded
Infinitesimal, infinite,
And Life, the Everlasting Tree,
Hath lived by me.
From my weak substance, through my narrow
veins,
Her ever-breathing effluence hath been shed,
Her speeding sap been sped,
Her fresh springs fed.
Now brings she, to enlarge my labouring breath,
And set my cramp’d force free,
No stranger, but a life-long friend to me,
And her chief handmaid—Death!
Ay, be it still as it was of old!—
For the husk split, that the seed might sprout,
The burst bud let the flower out,
And the flower fell, that the fruit might swell.
Further, further, let me unfold—
Out of the tree, into the mould!
Growing, growing, let me grow on—
Out of tissue to Soil and Sun!
Into a Maker out of the Made
Burgeoning, let me wither and fade!
Dying, let me myself survive,
A life no longer, but still alive!
Once more the struggle ’twixt gain and loss—
The birth of Glory, the death of dross!
Once more ’twixt Growing and Grown the strife,
On! out of living, on—to Life!
(Hine dies.)
So, letting loose
Everlasting Use:
Relaxing, releasing,
Power never-ceasing,
Even in decaying,
My right part playing:
Having lived fruitful, I
Fruitfully die.
As in my growth,
So in my dispersal,
Deathlessly serving
Life Universal:
Through losing, winning,
In death but beginning:
Here from my end
New beginning I send,
New life am I giving
The Life of all living—
That had no beginning,
And never shall end!