That stood for years knee-deep in velvet peace,
To turn their fruit to little worlds of flame,
And burn the trembling orchard there below?
What lit the heart of every golden-glow?
Why was no seed uncertain of its aim,
No moonrise tiresome, no April tame? .
Beauty, the undefeated, brought to birth.
Each tiny triumph of the laboring earth.

Then, with abrupt and visionary eyes,
I saw the huddled tenements arise.

Here where the merry clover danced and shone
Sprang agonies of iron, leagues of stone;

There, where green Silence laughed or stood enthralled,
Cheap music blared and evil alleys sprawled.

The roaring avenues, the shrieking mills,
Brothels and prisons on those kindly hills—
The menace of these things swept over me:
A threatening, unconquerable sea.

A stirring landscape and a generous earth;
Clean winds that shouted with benevolent mirth.
And then the city, like some hideous sore.
Good God, and what is all this beauty for?

PRAYER

God, though this life is but a wraith,
Although we know not what we use,
Although we grope with little faith,
Give me the heart to fight-and lose.

Ever insurgent let me be,

Make me more daring than devout; From sleek contentment keep me free, And fill me with a buoyant doubt.

Open my eyes to visions girt

With beauty, and with wonder lit-
But let me always see the dirt,

And all that spawn and die in it.

Open my ears to music; let

Me thrill with Spring's first flutes and drums— But never let me dare forget

The bitter ballads of the slums.

From compromise and things half-done,
Keep me, with stern and stubborn pride.
And when, at last, the fight is won,
God, keep me still unsatisfied.

WATERS OF BABYLON

What presses about us here in the evening

As you open a window and stare at a stone-gray sky, And the streets give back the jangle of meaningless movement That is tired of life and almost too tired to die.

Night comes on, and even the night is wounded;
There, on its breast, it carries a curved, white scar.
What will you find out there that is not torn and anguished?
Can God be less distressed than the least of His creatures
are?

Below are the blatant lights in a huddled squalor;

Above are futile fires in freezing space.

What can they give that you should look to them for compassion

Though you bare your heart and lift an imploring face?

They have seen, by countless waters and windows,

The women of your race facing a stony sky;

They have heard, for thousands of years, the voices of women Asking them: "Why . . . ?"

Let the night be; it has neither knowledge nor pity.
One thing alone can hope to answer your fear;

It is that which struggles and blinds us and burns between

us.

Let the night be. Close the window, belovèd. . . . Come

here.

HANDS

Strange, how this smooth and supple joint can be
Put to so many purposes. It checks

And rears the monsters of machinery

And shapes the idle gallantries of sex.

Those hands that light the fuse and dig the trap, Fingers that spin the earth or plunge through shameAnd yours, that lie so lightly in your lap,

Are only blood and dust-all are the same.

What mastery directs them through the world

And gives these delicate bones so great a power?

You drop your head. You sleep. Your hands are curled Loosely, like some half-opened, perfumed flower.

An hour ago they burned in mine and sent

Armies with banners charging through my veins. Now they are cool and white; they rest content, Curved in a smile. The mystery remains.

FROM "ROAST LEVIATHAN”

It is the final Day.

A blast of Gabriel's horn has torn away
The last haze from our eyes, and we can see
Past the three hundred skies and gaze upon
The Ineffable Name engraved deep in the sun.

Now one by one, the pious and the just
Are seated by us, radiantly risen

From their dull prison in the dust.
And then the festival begins!

A sudden music spins great webs of sound

Spanning the ground, the stars and their companions;
While from the cliffs and cañons of blue air,
Prayers of all colors, cries of exultation
Rise into choruses of singing gold.

And at the height of this bright consecration,
The whole Creation's rolled before us.
The seven burning heavens unfold.
We see the first (the only one we knew)
Dispersed and, shining through,

...

The other six declining: Those that hold
The stars and moons, together with all those
Containing rain and fire and sullen weather;
Cellars of dew-fall higher than the brim;
Huge arsenals with centuries of snows;
Infinite rows of storms and swarms of seraphim.

Divided now are winds and waters.

Sea and land,

Tohu and Bohu, light and darkness, stand
Upright on either hand.

And down this terrible aisle,

While heaven's ranges roar aghast,

Pours a vast file of strange and hidden things:
Forbidden monsters, crocodiles with wings,
Translated flesh that sings and glows

With more fresh colors than the rainbow knows.
For thrice three hundred years the full parade
Files past, a cavalcade of fears and wonder.
Then thunder-and the vast aisle clears.

Now comes our constantly increased reward.
The Lord commands that monstrous beast,
Leviathan, to be our feast.

What cheers ascend from horde on ravenous horde!
One hears the towering creature rend the seas,
Frustrated, cowering, and his pleas ignored.
In vain his great, belated tears are poured-
For this he was created, kept and nursed.
Cries burst from all the millions that attend:
"Ascend, Leviathan, it is the end!

We hunger and we thirst! Ascend!"

Observe him first, my friend.

God's deathless plaything rolls an eye
Five hundred thousand cubits high.
The smallest scale upon his tail
Could hide six dolphins and a whale.
His nostrils breathe-and on the spot
The churning waves turn seething hot.
If he be hungry, one huge fin
Drives seven thousand fishes in;
And when he drinks what he may need,
The rivers of the earth recede.
Yet he is more than huge and strong-
Twelve brilliant colors play along
His sides until, compared to him,
The naked, burning sun seems dim.
New scintillating rays extend

Through endless singing space and rise

Into an ecstasy that cries:

"Ascend, Leviathan, ascend!"

God now commands the multi-colored bands
Of angels to intrude and slay the beast

That His good sons may have a feast of food.
But as they come, Leviathan sneezes twice . .
And, numb with sudden pangs, each arm hangs slack.
Black terror seizes them; blood freezes into ice
And every angel flees from the attack!