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Page 10
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APPEAL
My feet are sore, Beloved,
With
agelong quest for Thee;
Wilt Thou not choose for dwelling
This
lonesome heart of me?
Is it too poor a mansion?
But
surely it is poor
Because Thou never bringest
Thy
beauty through its door!
It lies all bare and darkened,
To hold
nought save Thy light:
The door is shut because, Love,
It
craves no lesser sight.
Though void, a fulness richens
The
heart I give to Thee—
For, what more can I offer
Than
all my penury?
(Anything special in this lyric? Is not the language too commonplace and the
rhythm too hackneyed?)
"I like it very well. A rhythm or
language
STORM-LIGHT
The
immortal music of her mind
Sweeps
through the earth a lustrous wind—
"Renounce, O man, thy arduous oar
And, opening out faith's song-charmed
helpless sail,
Reach on my breath of love the
ecstatic shore!
My rush is truth self-beaconed, not
thy pale
Stranger-surmise:
I am a
cyclic gale
That blows from paradise to paradise!"
Sri Aurobindo's Comment
"This is now quite perfect. Only,
the lines 2-5 are now of the Illumined Mind, with a strong undertone of the
effective,1 the first and last four intuitive. This is not a defect.
"The poetry of the Illumined Mind
is usually full of a play of lights
MOKSHA
A giant
earth-oblivion numbs the brain,
A
stroke of trance making each limb fall loose
And
narrow-hearted hungers crumble down!
The
soul has broken through the walls of time,
The
unlustred prison of the dreaming clay,
To a
palace of imperishable gold—
No
transient pauper day but shadowless dawn,
Eternal
Truth's sun-gated infinite.
Sri Aurobindo's Comment
"It is mental throughout except
the last line which has a touch of Higher Mind; but it is fine all the same.
Quite up to the mark."
Page-104
GODS
They give us life with some high
burning breath,
Life which but draws a golden road to
death.
In vain we lift warm hands that quiver
and cry
Unto the blue salvation of the sky.
Above,
transparencies divine are spread
Of
fusing fires—gay purple, eager red;
But who
there heeds our love? Thwarted, alone,
We
struggle through an atmosphere of stone.
The
heaven-coloured distances lie dumb—
But all
our hush is sleep or clay grown numb:
A
blinded beauty fills our heart, a sun
Lost in
gigantic self-oblivion.
Those
ever-shining quietudes of bliss
How
shall we know—pale wanderers from kiss to kiss?
Sri
Resource name: /E-Library/Disciples/Amal Kiran (K D Sethna)/English/Overhead Poetry/A Poet^s Stammer.htm
-055_A Poet^s Stammer.htm
A POET'S STAMMER
My dream is spoken,
As if by
sound
Were tremulously broken
Some vow
profound.
A timeless hush
Draws ever
back
The winging music-rush
Upon
thought's track.
Though syllables sweep
Like
golden birds.
Far lonelihoods of sleep
Dwindle
my words.
Beyond life's clamour,
A
mystery mars
Speech-light to a myriad stammer
Of
nickering stars.—
it is certainly the inner mind that has transformed the idea of
stammering into a symbol of inner phenomena and into that operation a certain
strain of mystic mind enters, but what is prominent is the intuitive inspiration
throughout