Poetry Archives

From that warm height and pure,
  The peak undreamed of out of heavy air
  Rising to heaven more strange and rare;
From that amazed brief sojourn, exquisite, insecure;

  Fallen from thence to this,
  From all immortal sunk to mortal sweet,
  To slow gross joys from joy so fleet,
Fallen to mere remembrance of unsustainable bliss….

  O harsh, O heavy air,
  Difficult endurance, pain of common things!
  The slow sun east to westward swings,
The flat-faced moon climbs labouring with a senseless stare.

  From that inconceivable height——
  O inward eyes that saw and ears that heard,
  Spiritual swift wings that stirred
In that warm-flushing air and unendurable light;

  When I was as mere down
  On a swift-running youthful wind uptaken
  Over tall trees, white mountains, shaken,
Into the uttermost azure lifted, lifted alone.

  From that peak can it be
  That I am fallen, fallen that was so high?
  Or was that truly, surely I?
Who is it crawls here now, sad, uncontentedly?

  Fallen from that high content,
 —Fool, thou that wast content merely with bliss!
  Happy those lovers that will not kiss;
Never to be fulfilled was the heart’s endless passion meant.

  Never on joys attainable
  To linger, never on easy near delight—
  O bitter, unreached infinite,
Merciful defeat, availless anguish, hunger unendurable!

  O who shall be in longing wise,
  Skilled in refusal, in embracing free,
  Glad with earth’s innocent ecstasy,
Yet all the uncomprehended heaven in his eyes!