The Night

Watchman, what of the night?

See you a streak of light?

Whither, O Captain of the quest,

The course we steer for Port of Rest?

How shall he answer-he

Who never put to sea?

Within his tabernacle wall

He cannot even hear us call.

Behind the jealous door

That he must pass no more,

And whence he scarcely dares to look,

He keeps his eyes upon his book.

The little candles, lit

Where the disciples sit,

Light their small refuge round about,

But show no gleam to those without-

Spirits that cannot dwell

In such an airless cell,

Sniffing the sea-winds from afar,

Glimpsing the light of moon and star.

We must fare forth, unsped,

From homely board and bed;

We must set sail for port unknown,

On an uncharted course, alone.

Push off. We have to go,

Whether we choose or no.

The Call, though faint and far away,

Has reached us, and we must obey.

O but the night is dark

Beyond that only ark!

The salt sea-winds blow keen and cold

Outside the shelter of the fold!

Boom of the deep-sea swell,

Solemn as funeral bell-

Silence transcending sound, to make

High courage falter and heart quake . . . . .

What will the voyage cost?

We are already lost

Who turn from land and love, to face

This blank immensity of space.

Push out. We have to go,

Whether we fear or no.

And why stand shivering and appalled?

We go because the Voice has called.

Noah’s inspired dove

Took wing to find her love.

The sea is His-safe as the land

Within the hollow of His hand.

Here are the breakers-pull

Before the boat is full!

‘Ware the sharp reefs that line the shore!

Row for the open evermore!

O but the night is dark!

Never the faintest spark

Where surf and shore and cities were!

And not a whisper in the air.

The open-heart of grace,

It is a lonely place!

No light on any onward track!

Too far-too late-for turning back!

Where is that little ark-

Those candles in the dark-

The Rock of Ages cleft for me-

The Cross uprising in the sea-

Whereto the drowning grope

With yearning faith and hope,

And cling as to their mother’s breast,

And find safe shelter and sweet rest?

Gone, gone-for ever gone!

And still we must press on.

Steady, true soul, too brave to fret!

Press on-we are not drowning yet.

The night is soft and still

That was so wild and chill;

The bosom of the mighty deep

Breathes like a tired child asleep.

So peaceful, so profound,

The silence spread around!

The very breakers of the shore

Moan to the listening ear no more.

Night-but the stars are out.

Darkness of dread and doubt,

The way so lonely and so rough,

Have cleared a little, but enough.

We know not where we are-

Light cannot reach so far,

But show us we have lost and gained

As the compelling Voice ordained.

Gone, gone beyond recall,

Candle and prisoning wall,

Last echo of the hue and cry,

Last glint of an accusing eye.

Too late for looking back

Over the darkening track.

How should the life-taught soul return

That cannot unlive or unlearn?

Changed, changed, for ever changed,

Since hitherward we ranged,

To vision in a space so vast,

All the perspectives of the past.

How infinitely small

The once so broad and tall-

The aims, the pursuit and the strife

Shut in the sheltered grooves of life!

Those terrifying laws,

The wrangles and the wars

Of church with church and state with state-

The things men love, the things men hate-

Money and gauds and fame,

And neighbours’ scorn and blame-

The passion of desire and haste

To gather, to possess, to waste . . . . . .

How infinitely high,

Broad as the sea and sky,

The loyalty of man to man,

Once almost missing from the plan-

The elemental law

That codes and creeds ignore,

Of duty to the trust we hold

For heirs unborn and years untold . . . . . .

Night-and the drifting soul

Still without path or goal.

Yet was the voyage worth the cost.

We are not drowned. We are not lost.

‘T’is I. Be not afraid.

Moonlight and stars may fade.

One walks the ocean and the night.

We have no further need of light.

What matters where we go?

We do not ask to know.

He called us, and we came. The quest

For us is ended, and we rest.

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A few random poems:

External links

Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus

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Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh

Poems in English 

• Sonnet 71: No longer mourn for me when I am dead by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 70: That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 6: Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 69: Those parts of thee that the world’s eye doth view by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 68: Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 67: Ah, wherefore with infection should he live by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 66: Tired with all these, for restful death I cry by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 65: Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 64: When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defaced by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 63: Against my love shall be, as I am now by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 62: Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 61: Is it thy will thy image should keep open by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 60: Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 5: Those hours, that with gentle work did frame by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 59: If there be nothing new, but that which is by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 58: That god forbid, that made me first your slave by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 57: Being your slave, what should I do but tend by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 56: Sweet love, renew thy force, be it not said by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 55: Not marble, nor the gilded monuments by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 95: How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

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Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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