Mid-Atlantic

IF this were all! — A dream of dread
Pierced through me: I looked on waves that
Pale-crested out of hollows black;
The hungry lift of helpless waves,
Like million million tossing graves,
A wilderness without a track
Beneath the barren moon.
If this were all!
The stars of night, remotely strewn,
Looked on that restless heave and fall.
I seemed with them to watch this old
Bright planet through the ages rolled,
Self-tortured, burning splendors vain,
And fevered with its greeds insane,
And with the blood of peoples red:
I watched it, grown an ember cold,
Join in the dancing of the dead.

The chilly half-moon sank. The sound
Of naked surges beat around;
And through my heart the darkness poured
Its surge as of a sea unshored . . .
Oh, somewhere far and lost from light
Blind Europe battled in the night!
Then through that void of blackness came
The sudden vision of a child,
A child with feet as light as flame,
Who ran across the bitter waves,
Across the trembling of the graves —
With arms outstretched he smiled!

I drank the wine of life again,
I breathed among my brother men,
I felt the human fire.
I knew that I must serve the will
Of beauty and love and wisdom still;
Though all my hopes be overthrown,
Though universes turn to stone,
I have my being in this alone
And die in that desire.