VII

O blessed voices, O compassionate hands,

Calling and healing, O great-hearted brothers!

I come to you. Ring out across the lands

Your benediction, and I too will sing

With you, and haply kindle in another's

Dark desolate hour the flame you stirred in me.

O bountiful earth, in adoration meet

I bow to you; O glory of years to be,

I too will labour to your fashioning.

Go down, go down, unweariable feet,

Together we will march towards the ways

Wherein the marshalled hosts of morning wait

In sleepless watch, with banners wide unfurled

Across the skies in ceremonial state,

To greet the men who lived triumphant days,

And stormed the secret beauty of the world.

* * * * *

Georgian Poetry 1911-1912 · 第 44 / 92 题