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Title: Processionals
Author: John Oxenham [
More Titles by Oxenham]
NORTH
We come from the gloom of the shadowy trail
Out away on the fringe of the Night,
Where no man could tell, when the darkness fell,
If his eyes would behold the light.
To--the--Night,--
To--the--Night,--
To the darkness and the sorrow of the Night,--
Came--the--Light,
Came--the--Light,
Came the Wonder and the Glory of the Light.
There are wanderers still, without ever a guide,
Out there on the fringe of the Night,
They are bond and blind,--to their darkness resigned,
With never a wish for the Light.
To--their--Night,--
To--their--Night,--
To the darkness and the sorrow of their Night,
Take--the--Light!
Take--the--Light!
Take the Wonder and the Glory of the Light!
SOUTH
We come from the land of the blazing sun,
From the land that was blacker than night,--
From the white-hot sand of the Great Dark Land,
Where Might was the only Right.
To--the--Night,--
To--the--Night,--
To the darkness and the sorrow of the Night,
Came--the--Light,
Came--the--Light,
Came the Wonder and the Glory of the Light.
There are sorrows still, there is darkness still,
There are still gross wrongs to set right;
There are grim black stains, there are peoples in chains,
To be loosed from the grip of the Night.
To--their--Night,--
To--their--Night,--
To the darkness and the sorrow of their Night,
Take--the--Light!
Take--the--Light!
Take the Wonder and the Glory of the Light!
EAST
We come from the East, from the glowing East,
Where the Past, with its hand of ice,
Still reaches across through its ages of loss,
And still holds the land like a vice.
To--the--Night,--
To--the--Night,--
To the darkness and the sorrow of the Night,--
Came--the--Light,
Came--the--Light,
Came the Wonder and the Glory of the Light.
O, the sorrowful ones of the caste-bound lands,
How they long for the wider way!
How they sigh in the gloom of their close-barred tomb
For the Light of the Coming Day!
To--their--Night,--
To--their--Night,--
To the darkness and the sorrow of their Night,
Take--the--Light,
Take--the--Light!
Take the Wonder and the Glory of the Light!
WEST
We come from the Isles, from the Western Isles,
From the isles of the sunny seas,--
Where the smiles and the wiles, with which Nature beguiles,
Are but shrouds for her tragedies.
To--the--Night,--
To--the--Night,--
To the darkness and the sorrow of the Night,--
Came--the--Light,
Came--the--Light,
Came the Wonder and the Glory of the Light.
There is Darkness more deadly than Death itself,
There is Blindness beyond that of sight.
There are souls fast bound in the depths profound
Of unconscious and heedless Night.
To--their--Night,--
To--their--Night,--
To the darkness and the sorrow of their Night,
Take--the--Light!
Take--the--Light!
Take the Wonder and the Glory of the Light!
[The end]
John Oxenham's poem: Processionals
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