Edwin Markham Quotes
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Our ways go wide and I know not whither, But my song will search through the worlds for you, Till the Seven Seas waste and the Seven Stars wither, And the dream of the heart comes true.I am out to the roads and the long, long questing, On dark tides driven, on great winds blown: I pass the runs of the world, unresting, I sail to the unknown.
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He drew a circle that shut me out - Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout. But Love and I had the wit to win: We drew a circle that took him in.
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It will all come back - the wasted splendor, The heart's lost youth like a breaking flower, The dauntless dare, and the wistful, tender Touch of the April hour.
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O masters, lords and rulers in all lands How will the Future reckon with this Man? How answer his brute question in that hour When whirlwinds of rebellion shake all shores? How will it be with kingdoms and with kings - With those who shaped him to the thing he is - When this dumb Terror shall rise to judge the world. After the silence of the centuries?
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There is a destiny that makes us brothers:None goes his way alone: All that we send into the lives of others Comes back onto our own.I care not what his temples or his creeds,One thing holds firm and fastThat into his fateful heap of days and deedsThe soul of man is cast.
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It was ages ago in life's first wonder I found you, Virgilia, wild sea-heart; And 'twas ages ago that we went asunder, Ages and worlds apart.Your luminous face and your hair's dark glory, I knew them of old by an ocean-stream, In a far, first world now turned to story, Now faded back to dream.
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O masters, lords and rulers in all lands, Is this the handiwork you give to God, This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched?
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Through this dread shape the suffering ages look; Time's tragedy is in the aching stoop; Through this dread shape humanity betrayed, Plundered, profaned, and disinherited, Cries protest to the Powers that made the world. A protest that is also a prophecy.
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So I go to the long adventure, lifting My face to the far, mysterious goals, To the last assize, to the final sifting Of gods and stars and souls.
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I fear the vermin that shall undermine Senate and citadel and school and shrine.
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I will find you there where our low life heightens, Where the door of the Wonder again unbars, Where the old love lures and the old fire whitens, In the Stars behind the stars.
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Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave To have dominion over sea and land; To trace the stars and search the heavens for power; To feel the passion of Eternity?
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Come, clear the way, then, clear the way: Blind creeds and kings have had their day. Break the dead branches from the path; Our hope is in the aftermath - Our hope is in heroic men, Star-led to build the world again. To this Event the ages ran: Make way for Brotherhood - make way for Man.
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If this is a dream, then perhaps our dreaming Can touch life's height to a finer fire: Who knows but the heavens and all their seeming Were made by the heart's desire?One thing shines clear in the heart's sweet reason, One lightning over the chasm runs - That to turn from love is the world's one treason That darkens all the suns.
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The crest and crowning of all good,Life’s final star, is Brotherhood; For it will bring again to Earth Her long-lost Poesy and Mirth; Will send new light on every face, A kingly power upon the race. And till it come, we men are slaves, And travel downward to the dust of graves.
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Down all the stretches of Hell to its last gulf There is no shape more terrible than this - More tongued with censure of the world's blind greed - More filled with signs and portents for the soul - More fraught with menace to the universe.
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There are more lives yet, there are more worlds waiting, For the way climbs up to the eldest sun, Where the white ones go to their mystic mating, And the Holy Will is done.
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As we go star-stilled in the mystic garden, All the prose of this life run there to rhyme, How eagerly then will the poor heart pardon All of these hurts of Time!Ah, yes, in that hour of our souls dream-driven, In that high, white hour, O my wild sea-bride, The tears and the years will be all forgiven, … And all be justified.
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We have committed the Golden Rule to memory; let us now commit it to life.