The World-Spirit

Like soundless summer lightning seen afar, A halo o’er the grave of all mankind, O undefinèd dream-embosomed star, O charm of human love and sorrow twined:

Far, far away beyond the world’s bright streams, Over the ruined spaces of the lands, Thy beauty, floating slowly, ever seems To shine most glorious; then from out our hands

To fade and vanish, evermore to be Our sorrow, our sweet longing sadly borne, Our incommunicable mystery Shrined in the soul’s long night before the morn.

Ah! in the far fled days, how fair the sun Fell sloping o’er the green flax by the Nile, Kissed the slow water’s breast, and glancing shone Where laboured men and maidens, with a smile

Cheating the laggard hours; o’er them the doves Sailed high in evening blue; the river-wheel Sang, and was still; and lamps of many loves Were lit in hearts, long dead to woe or weal.

And, where a shady headland cleaves the light That like a silver swan floats o’er the deep Dark purple-stained Ægean, oft the height Felt from of old some poet-soul upleap,

As in the womb a child before its birth, Foreboding higher life. Of old, as now, Smiling the calm sea slept, and woke with mirth To kiss the strand, and slept again below.

So, without end, o’er Athens’ god-crowned steep Or round the shattered bases of great Rome, Fleeting and passing, as in dreamful sleep, The shadow-peopled ages go and come:

Sounds of a far-awakened multitude, With cry of countless voices intertwined, Harsh strife and stormy roar of battle rude, Labour and peaceful arts and growth of mind.

And yet, o’er all, the One through many seen, The phantom Presence moving without fail, Sweet sense of closelinked life and passion keen As of the grass waving before the gale.

What art Thou, O that wast and art to be? Ye forms that once through shady forest-glade Or golden light-flood wandered lovingly, What are ye? Nay, though all the past do fade

Ye are not therefore perished, ye whom erst The eternal Spirit struck with quick desire, And led and beckoned onward till the first Slow spark of life became a flaming fire.

Ye are not therefore perished: for behold To-day ye move about us, and the same Dark murmur of the past is forward rolled Another age, and grows with louder fame

Unto the morrow: newer ways are ours, New thoughts, new fancies, and we deem our lives New-fashioned in a mould of vaster powers; But as of old with flesh the spirit strives,

And we but head the strife. Soon shall the song That rolls all down the ages blend its voice With our weak utterance and make us strong; That we, borne forward still, may still rejoice

Fronting the wave of change. Thou who alone Changeless remainest, O most mighty Soul, Hear us before we vanish! O make known Thyself in us, us in thy living whole.