It's Monday and today I'm featuring a poem once again. Today's poem is by Scottish poet Robert Williams Buchanan. I was originally only going to post an extract as it is on the rather long side and the last thing I want to do is scare you away. But, this poem is very haunting and by cutting it short would do it an injustice.
The Secret of the Mere
I built a
hut beside the Mere
A lowly hut of turf and stone
Therein I
thought from year to year
To dwell in silence and alone
Watching
the lights of heaven chase
The phantoms on the water's face
The world
of men was far away
There was no sound, no speech, no cry
All
desolate the dark Mere lay
Under the mountains and the sky
A
sullen Mere, where sadly brood
Dark shadows of the solitude
" It
is an evil world," I said.
" There is no hope, my doom
is dark."
And in despair of soul I fled
Where not another
eye might mark
My silent pain, my heart's distress
And all my
spirit's weariness
And when I
came unto the Mere
It lay and gleamed through days of gloom
The
livid mountains gathered drear
All round, like stones upon a
tomb
Around its margin rusted red
The dark earth crumbled beneath my tread
I said, "
It is a godless place
Dark, desolate and cursed, like
me
Here, through all seasons, shall my face
Behold its image
silently."
And from that hour I lingered there
In
protestation and despair
For mark,
the hills were stone and sand
Not strewn with scented red or
green
All empty as a dead man's hand
And empty lay the
Mere between
No flocks fed there, no shepherd's cry
Awoke the
echoes of the sky
And
through a sullen mist I came
And beast-like crept unto my
lair
And many days I crouched in shame
Out of the sunshine and
sweet air
I heard the passing wind and rain
Like weary waves
within the brain
But when I
rose and glimmered forth
Ghost-wise across my threshold cold
The
clouds had lifted west and north
And all the peaks were touched
with gold
I smiled in scorn, far down beneath
The waters lay
as dark as death
I said, "
Go by, O golden light!
Thou canst not scatter darkness here.
In
two sad bosoms there is night
In mine and in the lonely
Mere
Light thou thy lamps and go thy way."
It went, and
all the heavens grew grey
And when
the lamps of heaven were lit
I did not raise mine eyes to
see
But watched the ghostly glimmers flit
On the black waters
silently
I hid my face from heaven, and kept
Dark vigil when
the bright sun slept
And ever
when the daylight grew
I saw with joy the hills were high
From
dawn to dark, the live day through
Not lighting as the sun went
by
Only at noon one finger-ray
Touched us and then was drawn
away
I cried, "
God cannot find me now
Done now am I with praise or pain
Beside
the Mere, with darkened brow
I walked as desolate as Cain
I
cried, " Not even God could rear
One seed of love or blessing
here!"
Twas
Spring that day, the air was chill
Above the heights white clouds
were rolled
The Mere below was blue as steel
And all the air
was chill and cold
When suddenly from air and sky
I heard a
solitary cry
Ah me! it
was the same sweet sound
That I had heard afar away
Sad echoes
wakened all around
Out of the rocks and caverns grey
And
looking upward, weary-eyed
I saw the gentle bird that cried
Upon a
rock sat that sweet bird
As he had sat on pale or tree
And
while the hills and waters heard
He named his name to them and
me
I thought, " God sends the Spring again
But here at
least it comes in vain"
From rock
to rock I saw him fly
Silent in flight, but loud at rest
And
ever at his summer cry
The mountains gladdened and seemed
blessed
And in the hollows of them all
Faint flames of grass
began to crawl
Some
secret hand I could not see
Was busy where I dwelt alone
It
touched with tender tracery
Faint as a breath, the cliffs of
stone
Out of the earth it drew soft moss
And lichens shapen
like the Cross
Some
secret hand I could not see
Was busy where I dwelt alone
It
touched with tender tracery
Faint as a breath, the cliffs of
stone
Out of the earth it drew soft moss
And lichens shapen
like the Cross
I hated
every sight and sound
I hated most that happy cry
I saw the
mountains glory-crowned
And the bright heavens drifting by
I
felt the earth beneath my tread
Now kindling quick, that late was
dead
I hated
every sight and sound
I hated most that happy cry
I saw the
mountains glory-crowned
And the bright heavens drifting by
I
felt the earth beneath my tread
Now kindling quick, that late was
dead
"We
will not smile nor utter praise
He made us dark, and dark we
brood
Sun-hating, desolate of days
We dwell apart in
solitude
Let Him light lamps for all the land
We darken and
elude His hand."
Scarce had
I spoken in such wise
When as before I heard the bird
And lo,
the Mere beneath mine eyes
Was deeply, mystically stirred
A
sunbeam broke its gloom apart
And Heaven trembled in its heart
There,
clustering in that under-gloom
Like rising stars that open
dim
Innumerable, leaf and bloom,
I saw the water-lilies
swim
Still beneath the surface dark to sight
But creeping
upward to the light
As
countless as the lights above
Stirring and glimmering below
They
gathered and I watched them move
Till on the surface, white as
snow
One came, grew glad, and opened up
A pinch of gold in
its white cup
Then
suddenly within my breast
Some life of rapture opened too
And
I forgot my bitter quest
Watching that glory as it grew
For,
leaf by leaf and flower by flower
The lilies opened from that
hour
And soon
the gloomy Mere was sown
With oiled leaves and stars of white
The
trumpet of the wind was blown
Far overhead, from height to
height
And lo, the Mere, from day to day
Grew starry as the
Milky Way
I could
not bear to dwell apart
With so divine and bright a thing
I
felt the dark depths of my heart
Were stirring, trembling,
wakening
I watched the Mere and saw it shine
E'en as the eye
of God on mine
As one
that riseth in his tomb
I rose and wept in soul's distress
I
had not feared his wrath and gloom
But now I feared his
loveliness
I craved for peace from God and then
Crept back
and made my peace with men
Robert Williams Buchanan (1841-1901)
