English poem
Ii. 3
by Laurence Binyon (1869–1943)
‘Whither, Whither?’ I heard a crying That asked of Night, and there was none replying. ‘Whither, into what land of change and wrack, Into what time out-racing thought and will, With feet borne onward and mind beaten back Over an earth that our lost loves has buried, Against a dark wind blowing chill, Whither are we driven, whither hurried?
‘Lovely vales of our youth, where haunted Peace of the ripening years, and hope that vaunted Its strength so rooted in earth’s purposes That children’s children should possess peace there! O sunny vales, and corn, and guardian trees, Shut off by the blind rain’s down-dropping curtain,— Vanished, as if they never were, And doubt alone were certain!
‘Heaven we feigned in a time perfecting Our missed design, and beauty of our neglecting. There should we live completed in an age Wise from our loss and rich with all our spoil, A race redeeming its lost heritage, Not by vain fears checked, nor by vain hopes cheated. —If that heaven fade, and futureless we toil, And battle already defeated?
‘Words of beauty, words of assuaging Majesty saw we on high above time’s raging Inscribed as over some vast porch serene; PARDON: the heart flowed out on tides of peace. JUSTICE: the soiled soul hasted to be clean. One word we named not, dreamed not, feared not even, THE END.—If All utterly cease; Earth, Time, Desire, Hell, Heaven?’
Titan spirit of god-like stature; Star-measurer, holder of deep clues of nature; Maker, but half-aware of what he makes, Of what the extravagant flame in him devours, And what unshapen Vastness he awakes,— Toiled in the terrible webs his mind invented, And caught in flame that twists and towers, Man strives with himself tormented.
Born for ever to move, the Dancer Of dark Creation’s dream, its destined answer,— Joy were those limbs created to express! Now like one darkly stumbling, while his brain Puzzles each motion with too anxious stress, Under the glory of stars that move unhalting He burns with the old need onward still to strain, Mis-timed, way-lost, defaulting.