Irish Jesuit Province

From out the DarknessAuthor(s): R. K.Source: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 13, No. 148 (Oct., 1885), pp. 520-522Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20497313 .

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( 520 )

FRO-IM OUT TIlE DARKNESS.

1.

THANKS for the violets ! But in vaiin They bear this message from a friend, That nature wakens up to send

Fresh hopes, and blossoms forth again.

They tell me that the spring's young green Peeps gaily through the brown and dun: They tell me that the smiling sun

Again through April tears is seen.

They say, the time which young hearts love Has come, when Hope's exuberant glee Laughs out for very joy to see

Bright green below, bright blue above.

They tell me this, the while I hear The lovinlg warblers of the trees Scatter gay sonnets on the breeze,

To prove that life is bright and dear.

Then, too, the city's ocean roar,

By soft winds soothed, speaks low and mild Stuch dream-fr-auglht murmlurs as a c.hild

Will hear in sleep beside life's shore.

But each glad sound, each winsome sight Is dull'd and darkened at my door: For I shall see the spring no more,

But grope through winter's life-long night.

The violets' breath is lile a sigh From quiet homes of humiian woe; For eveirywhere we cone and go,

We tread them down or pass them by.

Then bring me violets, let tlheir breatth With sorrow's wisdom teach to ini The lesson of humility,

Sweet lowly life, a calm sweet death.

Darkling within my chamber walls 13ring me fresh violets, set them near;

Suich fragrant sighs alone can cheer A life on whichG no sunibeam falls.

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Frow ott the Darkne n. s 521

Thanks, friend, your message lingering nigh With violet breath embalms my lose, For thus I learn beneathi the cross

The sacred sweetness of a sigh.

IL.

Yet think not that with banished lighlt The promise of my life must die; Or that my soul must henceforth lie

Imprison'd by my darkened sight.

For let each longed-for blossom cling, A blighted bud, within my hand: Let pallid, wither'd leaflets stand

As though a curse had killed my springy:

And let each fruit I hoped to bear Down-dropp'd in folding earth be sunk, And from this sere, rough-gnarled trunk

Let sunless failture ever tear

All tenderer offshoots:-yet I feel From God such deeply rooted will, As canl give sap anid fibre still

To make my woe serve other's weal.

From out the vigour of my heart Strong, living beamus may yet be hewn

Which, dried and hardened, muay be strewn To bridge some soul to nobler part.

Though maimed and blinded be my fate, I will not sit and idly cry

For pity from the passers-by: But limp and grope toward something great.

Though crushed to earth, my every breath Shall writhe against my fierce despair, I will not moan, for I must dare

To crawl on in the teeth of death.

Ay, should all piin and weakness blend With life to suffer, none to grasp; My soul would hurl with desperate gasp

My body towards some noble end.

And till this clay beneath the sod By heyy feet be firmly pressed, I cafnot pause to weep or rest,

For I must work the workc of God.

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522 F7rom outt the Darkness.

111.

But Thou, my God, make strong mine armii; Bless Thou my work :--bid Thou me speak Thou art so strong, and I so weak,

Alone, my work can only harm.

How can I work ?-In lonig hard strife All foes and fates I once warred down Low-smiitten now beneath God's frown,

Am I now dead ? or is this life ?

For I am blotted out from light, And from nmy mangled heart are torn The noblest lhopes that man could mourn,

'While on my soul too falls the night:

And in the darkness demons seem To crown my holiest aims with dust: Athlwart my prayers with snieers they thrust

The broken fragments of my dream.

Yet I had never flinched to flinlg Far frnm me all less high desire, That could not stanid the flash and fire

Of rny hleart's worship for my King

Close fetter'd in an icy gloom, To earth my soul now droops so low,

That o'er miy buried life there grow The mouldering mosses of the touiib.

And yet I tlhink that I couild fold

All pain anid pan in calm unmixed,

If once for all mv will were fixed

Unito God's will with certain hold.

Then crush or kill, btit teach me well

To love Thee, Christ, to hate all wrong,

And I will prove ime true and strong Up to the very gates of hell.

In this, nmy Might, if blinder grown, Is blest :-I pass all others by

No beauty hence can win mi-ine eye,

O Christ I ulntil I see thine own.

For Tlee I worlk; for me one grace

Thy pity keeps, I know, in store, For I shall see the sprinig once more,

When I shall look upon 'ihy face. R. KG

A41ril 23, 1884.

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