Читать книгу Rebel Verses - Gilbert Bernard - Страница 6

In the silence of the night-time

Startled, we can hear a murmur

As of someone tapping, tapping,

Tapping at the breasts of idols

With an auscultating hammer,

Sounding all their hollow vitals

As they helplessly endeavour

To evade with vain pretences

Or atone:

Yes, we hear the distant thunder

Of an earthquake that convulses;

Poor old Mother Earth is shaken,

Sorely tried and whirled asunder,

Shaken by a fierce invader;

Where grim and slow you creep below,

Digging, digging, digging deep,

Troglodyte, untiring miner

All alone!

As you climb upon the mountains,

Glaciers, icy precipices,

Toward the lonely lightning-blasted

Peak that towers above in silence,

Plunging into deep crevasses

Where the frozen water falls:

Monotone:

And at last we wake from nightmare —

Wake, to find ourselves denuded

Naked, lonesome, 'mid our fellows

Lacking father, wife, or mother,

Lacking neighbour, child or brother:

All disown.

Still our eyes are fixed steadfastly

Where you soar above the heavens,

Spurning with your mighty pinions

Countless deities and angels,

Shattering our fondest visions

With your own:

Ever on your knees you creep,

Where the way is wild and steep.

Digging, digging, digging deep,

Whilst the priests and idols weep.