Carrion Comfort continue…

[I Wake and Feel the Fell of Dark, Not Day.]

I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.

What hours, o what black hours we have spent

This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!

And more must, in yet longer light’s delay.

With witness I speak this.

But where I say Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent

To dearest him that lives alas! away.

I am gall, I am heartburn. God’s most deep decree

Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;

Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.

Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see

The lost are like this, and their scourge to be

As I am mine, their sweating selves, but worse.

[My Own Heart Let Me More Have Pity On]

My own heart let me more have pity on; let

Me live to my sad self hereafter kind,

Charitable; not live this tormented mind

With this tormented mind tormenting yet.

I cast for comfort I can no more get

By groping round my comfortless, than blind

Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find

Thirst’s all-in-all in all a world of wet.

Soul, self; come, poor Jackself, I do advise

You, jaded, let be; call off thoughts awhile

Elsewhere; leave comfort root-room; let joy size

At God knows when to

God knows what; whose smile ’s not wrung, see you;

Unforeseen times rather—

As skies Betweenpie mountains—lights a lovely mile.

That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the comfort of the Resurrection

Cloud-puffball, torn tufts, tossed pillows flaunt forth, then

Chevy on an air-built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs they throng; they glitter in marches.

Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, wherever an elm arches,

Shivelights and shadowtackle in long lashes lace, lance, and pair.

Delightfully the bright wind boisterous ropes, wrestles, beats earth bare

Of yestertempest’s creases; in pool and rutpeel parches

Squandering ooze to squeezed dough, crust, dust; stanches, starches

Squadroned masks and manmarks treadmire toil there

Footfretted in it.

Million-fueled, nature’s bonfire burns on.

But quench her bonniest, dearest to her, her clearest-selvèd spark

Man, how fast his firedint,

I his mark on mind, is gone!

Both are in an unfathomable, all is in an enormous dark

Drowned. o pity and indignation!

Manshape, that shone

Sheer off, disseveral, a star,

I death blots black out; nor mark

Is any of him at all so stark

But vastness blurs and time beats level.

Enough! the Resurrection, A heart’s-clarion!

Away grief’s gasping, I joyless days, dejection.

Across my foundering deck shone

A beacon, an eternal beam.

Flesh fade, and mortal trash

Fall to the residuary worm; world’s wildfire, leave but ash:

In a flash, at a trumpet crash,

I am at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and

This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond,

Is immortal diamond.

[Thou Art Indeed Just, Lord . . ]

Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend

With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just.

Why do sinners’ ways prosper? and why must

Disappointment all I endeavour end?

Wert thou my enemy,o thou my friend,

How wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost

Defeat, thwart me?

Oh, the sots and thralls of lust

Do in spare hours more thrive than I that spend,

Sir, life upon thy cause.

See, banks and brakes

Now, leaved how thick! laced they are again

With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes

Them; birds build—but not I build; no, but strain,

Time’s eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes.

Mine, o thou lord of life, send my roots rain.

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Carrion Comfort continue…

4 October, 2008 ~ Uncategorized ~ Comments