The Heptalogia Part 1

The Heptalogia.

by Algernon Charles Swinburne.

THE HIGHER PANTHEISM IN A NUTSh.e.l.l

One, who is not, we see: but one, whom we see not, is: Surely this is not that: but that is a.s.suredly this.

What, and wherefore, and whence? for under is over and under: If thunder could be without lightning, lightning could be without thunder.

Doubt is faith in the main: but faith, on the whole, is doubt: We cannot believe by proof: but could we believe without?

Why, and whither, and how? for barley and rye are not clover: Neither are straight lines curves: yet over is under and over.

Two and two may be four: but four and four are not eight: Fate and G.o.d may be twain: but G.o.d is the same thing as fate.

Ask a man what he thinks, and get from a man what he feels: G.o.d, once caught in the fact, shows you a fair pair of heels.

Body and spirit are twins: G.o.d only knows which is which: The soul squats down in the flesh, like a tinker drunk in a ditch.

More is the whole than a part: but half is more than the whole: Clearly, the soul is the body: but is not the body the soul?

One and two are not one: but one and nothing is two: Truth can hardly be false, if falsehood cannot be true.

Once the mastodon was: pterodactyls were common as c.o.c.ks: Then the mammoth was G.o.d: now is He a prize ox.

Parallels all things are: yet many of these are askew: You are certainly I: but certainly I am not you.

Springs the rock from the plain, shoots the stream from the rock: c.o.c.ks exist for the hen: but hens exist for the c.o.c.k.

G.o.d, whom we see not, is: and G.o.d, who is not, we see: Fiddle, we know, is diddle: and diddle, we take it, is dee.

JOHN JONES'S WIFE

I

AT THE PIANO

I

Love me and leave me; what love bids retrieve me? can June's fist grasp May?

Leave me and love me; hopes eyed once above me like spring's sprouts decay; Fall as the snow falls, when summer leaves grow false--cards packed for storm's play!

II

Nay, say Decay's self be but last May's elf, wing s.h.i.+fted, eye sheathed-- Changeling in April's crib rocked, who lets 'scape rills locked fast since frost breathed-- Skin cast (think!) adder-like, now bloom bursts bladder-like,--bloom frost bequeathed?

III

Ah, how can fear sit and hear as love hears it grief's heart's cracked grate's screech?

Chance lets the gate sway that opens on hate's way and shews on shame's beach Crouched like an imp sly change watch sweet love's shrimps lie, a toothful in each.

IV

Time feels his tooth slip on husks wet from Truth's lip, which drops them and grins-- Sh.e.l.ls where no throb stirs of life left in lobsters since joy thrilled their fins-- Hues of the prawn's tail or comb that makes dawn stale, so red for our sins!

V

Years blind and deaf use the soul's joys as refuse, heart's peace as manure, Reared whence, next June's rose shall bloom where our moons rose last year, just as pure: Moons' ends match roses' ends: men by beasts' noses' ends mete sin's stink's cure.

VI

Leaves love last year smelt now feel dead love's tears melt--flies caught in time's mes.h.!.+

Salt are the dews in which new time breeds new sin, brews blood and stews flesh; Next year may see dead more germs than this weeded and reared them afresh.

VII

Old times left perish, there's new time to cherish; life just s.h.i.+fts its tune; As, when the day dies, earth, half afraid, eyes the growth of the moon; Love me and save me, take me or waive me; death takes one so soon!

II

BY THE CLIFF

I

Is it daytime (guess), You that feed my soul To excess With that light in those eyes And those curls drawn like a scroll In that round grave guise?

No or yes?

II

Oh, the end, I'd say!