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I Think Continually of
Those
I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who,
from the womb, remembered the soul's history
Through corridors of light where
the hours are suns,
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that
their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the spirit clothed from
head to foot in song.
And who hoarded from the spring branches
The desires
falling across their bodies like blossoms.
What is precious is
never to forget
The delight of the blood drawn from ancient
springs
Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth;
Never to deny
its pleasure in the simple morning light,
Nor its grave evening demand for
love;
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog
the flowering of the spirit.
Near the snow, near the sun, in the
highest fields
See how these names are fêted by the waving grass,
And by
the streamers of white cloud,
And whispers of wind in the listening
sky;
The names of those who in their lives fought for life,
Who wore at
their hearts the fire's center.
Born of the sun, they traveled a short while
towards the sun,
And left the vivid air signed with their
honor.
Those
I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who,
from the womb, remembered the soul's history
Through corridors of light where
the hours are suns,
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that
their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the spirit clothed from
head to foot in song.
And who hoarded from the spring branches
The desires
falling across their bodies like blossoms.
What is precious is
never to forget
The delight of the blood drawn from ancient
springs
Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth;
Never to deny
its pleasure in the simple morning light,
Nor its grave evening demand for
love;
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog
the flowering of the spirit.
Near the snow, near the sun, in the
highest fields
See how these names are fêted by the waving grass,
And by
the streamers of white cloud,
And whispers of wind in the listening
sky;
The names of those who in their lives fought for life,
Who wore at
their hearts the fire's center.
Born of the sun, they traveled a short while
towards the sun,
And left the vivid air signed with their
honor.
~ Stephen Spender
~
~
(Collected
Poems)
Poems)