The Thread of Life...

I

The irresponsive silence of the land,

The irresponsive sounding of the sea,

Speak both one message of one sense to me:--

Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand

Thou too aloof bound with the flawless band

Of inner solitude; we bind not thee;

But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free?

What heart shall touch thy heart? what hand thy hand?--

And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek,

And sometimes I remember days of old
When fellowship seemed not so far to seek
And all the world and I seemed much less cold,
And at the rainbow's foot lay surely gold,
And hope felt strong and life itself not weak.

II

Thus am I mine own prison. Everything

Around me free and sunny and at ease:

Or if in shadow, in a shade of trees

Which the sun kisses, where the gay birds sing

And where all winds make various murmuring;

Where bees are found, with honey for the bees;

Where sounds are music, and where silences

Are music of an unlike fashioning.

Then gaze I at the merrymaking crew,

And smile a moment and a moment sigh

Thinking: Why can I not rejoice with you?

But soon I put the foolish fancy by:
I am not what I have nor what I do;
But what I was I am, I am even I.

III

Therefore myself is that one only thing

I hold to use or waste, to keep or give;

My sole possession every day I live,

And still mine own despite Time's winnowing.

Ever mine own, while moons and seasons bring

From crudeness ripeness mellow and sanitive;

Ever mine own, till Death shall ply his sieve;

And still mine own, when saints break grave and sing.

And this myself as king unto my King

I give, to Him Who gave Himself for me;

Who gives Himself to me, and bids me sing

A sweet new song of His redeemed set free;

he bids me sing: O death, where is thy sting?

And sing: O grave, where is thy victory? -- Christina Rossetti

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These past few weeks I have not had the opportunity to really write up any half-decent posts for this blog. Even though I don't post very often as it is (wow, 4 posts since December) and I think I have a readership of maybe 2 or 3 people (hi mom!) it doesn't mean I don't intend to keep posting on this lonely blog.

I like to post poetry on here because it seems very few people really take the time to read poetry regularly (at least I don't) and it allows us to reflect on things we don't usually contemplate. Some people have an aversion to poetry--often because it looks like just a form of literature for personal and emotional introspection for the author. But it communicates something, I think, about humanity, that other forms of literature cannot. Hopefully, when I have the time, I will be able to say more as I've been trying to formulate an essay on this thanks to Shelley.

In the meantime, look what they did at Scriptorium Daily!

Alas... on I go to another busy week.