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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 for evermore.

       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, thatchèd 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 under ground;

       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-coloured, 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,

      

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