The Sprits Of Light And Darkness

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[VOICES SINGING.]


FIRST CHORUS.

  Ere the birth of Death and of Time,
  Ere the birth of Hell and its torments,
  Ere the orbs of heat and of rime
  And the winds to the heavens were as garments,
  Worm-like in the womb of Space,
  Worm-like from her monster womb,
  We sprung, a myriad race
  Of thunder and tempest and gloom.


SECOND CHORUS.

  As from the evil good
  Springs like a fire,
  As bland beatitude
  Wells from the dire,
  So was the Chaos brood
  Of us the sire.


FIRST CHORUS.

  We had lain for gaunt ages asleep
  'Neath her breast in a bulk of torpor,
  When down through the vasts of the deep
  Clove a sound like the notes of a harper;
  Clove a sound, and the horrors grew
  Tumultuous with turbulent night,
  With whirlwinds of blackness that blew,
  And storm that was godly in might.
  And the walls of our prison were shattered
  Like the crust of a fire-wrecked world;
  Like torrents of clouds that are scattered
  On the face of the Night we are hurled.


SECOND CHORUS.

  Us, in unholy thought
  Patiently lying,
  Eons of violence wrought,
  Violence defying.
  When on a mighty wind,--
  Born of a godly mind
  Large with a motive kind,--
  Girdled with wonder,
  Flame and a strength of song
  Rushed in a voice along,
  Burst and, lo! we were strong--
  Strong as the thunder.


FIRST CHORUS.

  We lurk in the upper spaces,
  Where the oceans of tempest are born,
  Where the scowls of our shadowy faces
  Are safe from the splendors of morn.
  Our homes are wrecked worlds and each planet
  Whose sun is a light that is sped;
  Bleak moons whose cold bodies of granite
  Are hollow and flameless and dead.


SECOND CHORUS.

  We in the living sun
  Live like a passion;
  Ere all his stars begun
  We and the sun were one,
  As God did fashion.
  Lo! from our burning hands,
  Flung like inspired brands,
  Hurled we the stars, like sands
  Whirled in the ocean;
  And all our breath was life,
  Life to those worlds and rife
  With ever-moving strife,
  Passion for motion.


FIRST CHORUS.

  Our beds are the tombs of the mortals;
  We feed on their crimes and the thought
  That falters and halts at the portals
  Of actions, intentions unwrought.
  We cover the face of to-morrow;
  We frown in the hours that be;
  We breathe in the presence of sorrow,
  And death and destruction are we.


SECOND CHORUS.

  We are the hope and ease,
  Joy and the pleasure,
  Authors of love and peace,
  Love that shall never cease,
  Free as the azure.
  Birth of our eyes--the might,
  Power and strength of light,
  Victor o'er death and night,
  Flesh and its yearnings:
  And from our utt'rance streams
  Beauty with burnings
  After completer dreams,
  Fuller discernings.

  Morning and birth are ours,
  Dew that is blown
  From our light lips like flowers;
  Clouds and the beating showers,
  Stars that are sown;
  Song and the bursting buds,
  Life of the many floods,
  Winds that are strown.

  Ye in your darkness are
  Dark and infernal;
  Subject to death and mar!
  But in the spaces far,
  Like our effulgent star,
  We are eternal!

© Madison Julius Cawein