Charles Hamilton Sorley (Чарльз Сорли)

Whom Therefore We Ignorantly Worship

These things are silent. Though it may be told
Of luminous deeds that lighten land and sea,
Strong sounding actions with broad minstrelsy
Of praise, strange hazards and adventures bold,
We hold to the old things that grow not old:
Blind, patient, hungry, hopeless (without fee
Of all our hunger and unhope are we),
To the first ultimate instinct, to God we hold.

They flicker, glitter, flicker. But we bide,
We, the blind weavers of an intense fate,
Asking but this—that we may be denied:
Desiring only desire insatiate,
Unheard, unnamed, unnoticed, crucified
To our unutterable faith, we wait. 

1. Rooks (There is such cry in all these birds)
2. East Kennet Church at Evening
3. To Poets
4. Barbury Camp
5. J. B.

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1139

Последние стихотворения

To English version