by Edna St. Vincent Millay

字號:

by Edna St. Vincent Millay
     All I could see from where I stood
     Was three long mountains and a wood;
     I turned and looked another way,
     And saw three islands in a bay.
     So with my eyes I traced the line
     Of the horizon, thin and fine,
     Straight around till I was come
     Back to where I'd started from;
     And all I saw from where I stood
     Was three long mountains and a wood.
     Over these things I could not see;
     These were the things that bounded me;
     And I could touch them with my hand,
     Almost, I thought, from where I stand.
     And all at once things seemed so small
     My breath came short, and scarce at all.
     But, sure, the sky is big, I said;
     Miles and miles above my head;
     So here upon my back I'll lie
     And look my fill into the sky.
     And so I looked, and, after all,
     The sky was not so very tall.
     The sky, I said, must somewhere stop,
     And sure enough! I see the top!
     The sky, I thought, is not so grand;
     I 'most could touch it with my hand!
     And reaching up my hand to try,
     I screamed to feel it touch the sky.
     I screamed, and —lo! Infinity
     Came down and settled over me;
     Forced back my scream into my chest,
     Bent back my arm upon my breast,
     And, pressing of the Undefined
     The definition on my mind,
     Held up before my eyes a glass
     Through which my shrinking sight did pass
     Until it seemed I must behold
     Immensity made manifold;
     Whispered to me a word whose sound
     Deafened the air for worlds around,
     And brought unmuffled to my ears
     The gossiping of friendly spheres,
     The creaking of the tented sky,
     The ticking of Eternity.
     I saw and heard, and knew at last
     The How and Why of all things, past,
     And present, and forevermore.
     The Universe, cleft to the core,
     Lay open to my probing sense
     That, sick'ning, I would fain pluck thence
     But could not, nay! But needs must suck
     At the great wound, and could not pluck
     My lips away till I had drawn
     All venom out. Ah, fearful pawn!
     For my omniscience paid I toll
     In infinite remorse of soul.
     All sin was of my sinning, all
     Atoning mine, and mine the gall
     Of all regret. Mine was the weight
     Of every brooded wrong, the hate
     That stood behind each envious thrust,
     Mine every greed, mine every lust.
     And all the while for every grief,
     Each suffering, I craved relief
     With individual desire,
     Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire
     About a thousand people crawl;
     Perished with each,then mourned for all!
     A man was starving in Capri;
     He moved his eyes and looked at me;
     I felt his gaze, I heard his moan,
     And knew his hunger as my own.
     I saw at sea a great fog bank
     Between two ships that struck and sank;
     A thousand screams the heavens smote;
     And every scream tore through my throat.
     No hurt I did not feel, no death
     That was not mine; mine each last breath
     That, crying, met an answering cry
     From the compassion that was I.
     All suffering mine, and mine its rod;
     Mine, pity like the pity of God.
     Ah, awful weight! Infinity
     Pressed down upon the finite Me!
     My anguished spirit, like a bird,
     Beating against my lips I heard;
     Yet lay the weight so close about
     There was no room for it without.
     And so beneath the weight lay I
     And suffered death, but could not die.
     Long had I lain thus, craving death,
     When quietly the earth beneath
     Gave way, and inch by inch, so great
     At last had grown the crushing weight,
     Into the earth I sank till I
     Full six feet under ground did lie,
     And sank no more,there is no weight
     Can follow here, however great.
     From off my breast I felt it roll,
     And as it went my tortured soul
     Burst forth and fled in such a gust
     That all about me swirled the dust.
     Deep in the earth I rested now;
     Cool is its hand upon the brow
     And soft its breast beneath the head
     Of one who is so gladly dead.
     And all at once, and over all
     The pitying rain began to fall;
     I lay and heard each pattering hoof
     Upon my lowly, thatched roof,
     And seemed to love the sound far more
     Than ever I had done before.
     For rain it hath a friendly sound
     To one who's six feet underground;
     And scarce the friendly voice or face:
     A grave is such a quiet place.
     The rain, I said, is kind to come
     And speak to me in my new home.
     I would I were alive again
     To kiss the fingers of the rain,
     To drink into my eyes the shine
     Of every slanting silver line,
     To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze
     From drenched and dripping apple-trees.
     For soon the shower will be done,
     And then the broad face of the sun
     Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth
     Until the world with answering mirth
     Shakes joyously, and each round drop
     Rolls, twinkling, from its grass-blade top.
     How can I bear it; buried here,
     While overhead the sky grows clear
     And blue again after the storm?
     O, multi-colored, multiform,
     Beloved beauty over me,
     That I shall never, never see
     Again! Spring-silver, autumn-gold,
     That I shall never more behold!
     Sleeping your myriad magics through,
     Close-sepulchred away from you!
     O God, I cried, give me new birth,
     And put me back upon the earth!
     Upset each cloud's gigantic gourd
     And let the heavy rain, down-poured
     In one big torrent, set me free,
     Washing my grave away from me!
     I ceased; and through the breathless hush
     That answered me, the far-off rush
     Of herald wings came whispering
     Like music down the vibrant string
     Of my ascending prayer, and crash!
     Before the wild wind's whistling lash
     The startled storm-clouds reared on high
     And plunged in terror down the sky,
     And the big rain in one black wave
     Fell from the sky and struck my grave.
     I know not how such things can be;
     I only know there came to me
     A fragrance such as never clings
     To aught save happy living things;
     A sound as of some joyous elf
     Singing sweet songs to please himself,
     And, through and over everything,
     A sense of glad awakening.
     The grass, a-tiptoe at my ear,
     Whispering to me I could hear;
     I felt the rain's cool finger-tips
     Brushed tenderly across my lips,
     Laid gently on my sealed sight,
     And all at once the heavy night
     Fell from my eyes and I could see,
     A drenched and dripping apple-tree,
     A last long line of silver rain,
     A sky grown clear and blue again.
     And as I looked a quickening gust
     Of wind blew up to me and thrust
     Into my face a miracle
     Of orchard-breath, and with the smell,
     I know not how such things can be!
     I breathed my soul back into me.
     Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I
     And hailed the earth with such a cry
     As is not heard save from a man
     Who has been dead, and lives again.
     About the trees my arms I wound;
     Like one gone mad I hugged the ground;
     I raised my quivering arms on high;
     I laughed and laughed into the sky,
     Till at my throat a strangling sob
     Caught fiercely, and a great heart-throb
     Sent instant tears into my eyes;
     O God, I cried, no dark disguise
     Can e'er hereafter hide from me
     Thy radiant identity!
     Thou canst not move across the grass
     But my quick eyes will see Thee pass,
     Nor speak, however silently,
     But my hushed voice will answer Thee.
     I know the path that tells Thy way
     Through the cool eve of every day;
     God, I can push the grass apart
     And lay my finger on Thy heart!
     The world stands out on either side
     No wider than the heart is wide;
     Above the world is stretched the sky,
     No higher than the soul is high.
     The heart can push the sea and land
     Farther away on either hand;
     The soul can split the sky in two,
     And let the face of God shine through.
     But East and West will pinch the heart
     That can not keep them pushed apart;
     And he whose soul is flat the sky
     Will cave in on him by and by.