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Why hath God put
Great longings in some souls and straightway shut
All doors of their clay hut?
The clay accurst
That holds achievement back; from which, immersed,
The spirit may not
Were it, at least,
Not better to have sat at Circe’s feast,
If afterwards a beast?
Than aye to bleed,
To strain and strive, to toil in thought and deed,
And nevermore succeed?
Penetralia
A poem by Madison Julius Cawein
I am a part of all you see
In Nature; part of all you feel:
I am the impact of the bee
Upon the blossom; in the tree
I am the sap, -that shall reveal
The leaf, the bloom, – that flows and flutes
Up from the darkness through its
I am the vermeil of the rose,
The perfume breathing in its veins;
The gold within the mist that glows
Along the west and overflows
With light the heaven; the dew that rains
Its freshness down and strings with spheres
Of wet the webs and oaten
I am the egg that folds the bird;
The song that beaks and breaks its shell;
The laughter and the wandering word
The water says; and, dimly heard,
The music of the blossom’s bell
When soft winds swing it; and the sound
Of grass slow-creeping o’er the
I am the warmth, the honey-scent
That throats with spice each lily-bud
That opens, white with wonderment,
Beneath the moon; or, downward bent,
Sleeps with a moth beneath its hood:
I am the dream that haunts it too,
That crystallizes into
I am the seed within the pod;
The worm within its closed cocoon:
The wings within the circling clod,
The germ, that gropes through soil and sod
To beauty, radiant in the noon:
I am all these, behold! and more –
I am the love at the world-heart’s
Happy-Go-Lucky
A poem by Madison Julius Cawein
I can’t get up with the chickens;
I can’t get up at dark:
And what do I care for the early worm?
And what do I care for the lark?
I can’t do this or that thing;
I can’t do things like you;
And the thing that I do most frequent
Is the thing I never
I can’t go where I would go,
Though I go from morn till eve;
But some place I go wherever I go
Whenever a place I
For the law of the road is this law,
And the law is right and good:
Just go your ways and take no heed
Of how you get your
And the law of the road is this law,
And the law is one to keep:
It never matters, wherever you are,
So you have a place to
And the law of the road is this law,
And thelaw may it grow and grow!
Wherever you go and whatever you do
Let no one ever
Haunters Of The Silence
A poem by Madison Julius Cawein
There are haunters of the silence, ghosts that hold the heart and brain:
I have sat with them and hearkened; I have talked with them in vain:
I have shuddered from their coming, yet have run to meet them there,
And have cursed them and have blessed them and have loved them to
At my door I see their shadows; in my walks I meet their ghosts;
Where I often hear them weeping or sweep by in withered hosts:
Perished dreams, gone like the roses, crumbling by like autumn leaves;
Phantoms of old joys departed, that the spirit eye
Oft at night they sit beside me, fix their eyes upon my face,
Demon eyes that burn and hold me, in whose deeps my heart can trace
All the past; and where a passion, as in Hell the ghosts go by,
Turns an anguished face toward me with a love that cannot
In the night-time, in the darkness, in the blackness of the storm,
Round my fireplace there they gather, flickering form on shadowy form:
In the daytime, in the noontide, in the golden sunset glow,
On the hilltops, in the forests, I have met them walking
There are haunters of the silence, ghosts that hold the brain and heart:
In the mansion of my being they have placed a room apart:
There I hear their spectre raiment, see their shadows on
the floor,
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