Читать книгу Many Gods - Rice Cale Young - Страница 1

The illimitable leaping of the sea,

The mouthing of his madness to the moon,

The seething of his endless sorcery,

His prophecy no power can attune,

Swept over me as, on the sounding prow

Of a great ship that steered into the stars,

I stood and felt the awe upon my brow

Of death and destiny and all that mars.

The wind that blew from Cassiopeia cast

Wanly upon my ear a rune that rung;

The sailor in his eyrie on the mast

Sang an "All's well," that to the spirit clung

Like a lost voice from some aërial realm

Where ships sail on forever to no shore,

Where Time gives Immortality the helm,

And fades like a far phantom from life's door.

"And is all well, O Thou Unweariable

Launcher of worlds upon bewildered space,"

Rose in me, "All? or did thy hand grow dull

Building this world that bears a piteous race?

O was it launched too soon or launched too late?

Or can it be a derelict that drifts

Beyond thy ken toward some reef of Fate

On which Oblivion's sand forever shifts?"

The sea grew softer as I questioned – calm

With mystery that like an answer moved,

And from infinity there fell a balm,

The old peace that God is, tho all unproved.

The old faith that tho gulfs sidereal stun

The soul, and knowledge drown within their deep,

There is no world that wanders, no not one

Of all the millions, that He does not keep.