Oracles

THE HERMIT’S HYMN TO SOLITUDE 77 V All change, all motion, and all sound, are weakness ! Man cannot bear the darkness which is death. Even that calm Christ, manifest in meekness, Cried on the cross and gave his ghostly breath, On the prick of death, Voice, for his passion could not bear nor dare The interlunar, the abundant air Darkened, and silence on the shuddering Hill, and the unbeating wing Of the legions of His Father, and so died. But I, should I be still Poised between fear and will ? Should I be silent, I, and be unsatisfied ? For solitude shall bend Self to all selfishness, and have one friend, Self, and behold one God, and be, and look beyond the End. VI O Solitude ! how many have mistaken Thy name for Sorrow’s, or for Death’s or Fear’s ! Only thy children lie at night and waken— How shouldst thou speak and say that no man hears ? O Soul of Tears ! For never hath fallen as dew thy word, Nor is thy shape shewed, nor as Wisdom’s heard Thy crying about the city In the house where is no pity, But in the desolate halls and lonely vales of sand :