Where they were greenly dressed In brotherhood of graves.
Man the Angels marked: He led a host through murk, On fearful seas embarked; Man the Angels marked, - To think, without a nay, That he was good as they, And help him at his work.
Man and Angels, ye
A sluggish fen shall drain, Shall quell a warring sea. Man and Angels, ye
Whom stain of strife befouls, A light to kindle souls Bear radiant in the stain.
Hawk or shrike has done this deed Of downy feathers: rueful sight! Sweet sentimentalist, invite
5 Your bosom's Power to intercede.
Interpret me the savage whirr: And is it Nature scourged; or she, Her offspring's executioner, Reducing land to barren sea? But is there meaning in a day When this fierce angel of the air, Intent to throw, and haply slay, Can, for what breath of life we bear, Exact the wrestle? Call to mind The many meanings glistening up When Nature, to her nurslings kind, Hands them the fruitage and the cup! And seek we rich significance Not otherwhere than with those tides Of pleasure on the sunned expanse, Whose flow deludes, whose ebb derides?
Look in the face of men who fare Lock-mouthed, a match in lungs and thews
For this fierce angel of the air,
To twist with him and take his bruise. 50 That is the face beloved of old Of Earth, young mother of her brood. Nor broken for us shows the mould When muscle is in mind renewed: Though farther from her nature rude, 55 Yet nearer to her spirit's hold; And though of gentler mood serene, Still forceful of her fountain-jet. So shall her blows be shrewdly met, Be luminously read the scene Where Life is at her grindstone set, That she may give us edging keen, String us for battle, till as play The common strokes of fortune shower. Such meaning in a dagger-day Our wits may clasp, to wax in power Yea, feel us warmer at her breast, By spin of blood in lusty drill, Than when her honeyed hands caressed, And Pleasure, sapping, seemed to fill. 70
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