WHAT is the song the stars sing?
(_And a million songs are as song of one_.)
This is the song the stars sing:
_Sweeter song’s none_.
One to set, and many to sing,
(_And a million songs are as song of one_),
One to stand, and many to cling,
The many things, and the one Thing,
The one that runs not, the many that run.
The ever new weaveth the ever old
(_And a million songs are as song of one_).
Ever telling the never told;
The silver saith, and the said is gold,
And done ever the never done.
The chase that’s chased is the Lord o’ the chase
(_And a million songs are as song of one_),
And the pursued cries on the race;
And the hounds in leash are the hounds that run.
Hidden stars by the shown stars’ sheen;
(_And a million suns are but as one_);
Colours unseen by the colours seen,
And sounds unheard heard sounds between,
And a night is in the light of the sun.
An ambuscade of light in night,
(_And a million secrets are but as one_),
And a night is dark in the sun’s light,
And a world in the world man looks upon.
Hidden stars by the shown stars’ wings,
(_And a million cycles are but as one_),
And a world with unapparent strings
Knits the simulant world of things;
Behold, and vision thereof is none.
The world above in the world below
(_And a million worlds are but as one_),
And the One in all; as the sun’s strength so
Strives in all strength, glows in all glow
Of the earth that wits not, and man thereon.
Braced in its own fourfold embrace
(_And a million strengths are as strength of one_),
And round it all God’s arms of grace,
The world, so as the Vision says,
Doth with great lightning-tramples run.
And thunder bruiteth into thunder,
(_And a million sounds are as sound of one_),
From stellate peak to peak is tossed a voice of wonder,
And the height stoops down to the depths thereunder,
And sun leans forth to his brother-sun.
And the more ample years unfold
(_With a million songs as song of one_),
A little new of the ever old,
A little told of the never told,
Added act of the never done.
Loud the descant, and low the theme,
(_A million songs are as song of one_);
And the dream of the world is dream in dream,
But the one Is is, or nought could seem;
And the song runs round to the song begun.
This is the song the stars sing,
(_Tonèd all in time_);
Tintinnabulous, tuned to ring
A multitudinous-single thing,
Rung all in rhyme.
FROM THE NIGHT OF FOREBEING
AN ODE AFTER EASTER
_In the chaos of preordination_, _and night of our forebeings_.—