The DayPoems Poetry Collection Timothy Bovee, editor www.daypoems.net Click on the bonsai for the next poem. DayPoems Forum Click to submit poems to DayPoems, comment on DayPoems or a poem within, comment on other poetry sites, update links, or simply get in touch. DayPoems Forum. Poetry Whirl
Indexes
Poetry Places
Nodes powered by
|
D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s * D a y P o e m s |
Won't you help support DayPoems? The Sick GodBy Thomas Hardy6/2/1840-1/11/1928I In days when men had joy of war, A God of Battles sped each mortal jar; The peoples pledged him heart and hand, From Israel's land to isles afar. II His crimson form, with clang and chime, Flashed on each murk and murderous meeting-time, And kings invoked, for rape and raid, His fearsome aid in rune and rhyme. III On bruise and blood-hole, scar and seam, On blade and bolt, he flung his fulgid beam: His haloes rayed the very gore, And corpses wore his glory-gleam. IV Often an early King or Queen, And storied hero onward, knew his sheen; 'Twas glimpsed by Wolfe, by Ney anon, And Nelson on his blue demesne. V But new light spread. That god's gold nimb And blazon have waned dimmer and more dim; Even his flushed form begins to fade, Till but a shade is left of him. VI That modern meditation broke His spell, that penmen's pleadings dealt a stroke, Say some; and some that crimes too dire Did much to mire his crimson cloak. VII Yea, seeds of crescive sympathy Were sown by those more excellent than he, Long known, though long contemned till then - The gods of men in amity. VIII Souls have grown seers, and thought out-brings The mournful many-sidedness of things With foes as friends, enfeebling ires And fury-fires by gaingivings! IX He scarce impassions champions now; They do and dare, but tensely--pale of brow; And would they fain uplift the arm Of that faint form they know not how. X Yet wars arise, though zest grows cold; Wherefore, at whiles, as 'twere in ancient mould He looms, bepatched with paint and lath; But never hath he seemed the old! XI Let men rejoice, let men deplore. The lurid Deity of heretofore Succumbs to one of saner nod; The Battle-god is god no more. DayPoems Poem No. 1005 Comment on DayPoems? If you are like us, you have strong feelings about poetry, and about each poem you read. Let it all out! Comment on this poem, any poem, DayPoems, other poetry places or the art of poetry at DayPoems Feedback. Won't you help support DayPoems? Click here to learn more about how you can keep DayPoems on the Web . . . Copyright The DayPoems web site, www.daypoems.net, is copyright 2001-2005 by Timothy K. Bovee. All rights reserved. The authors of poetry and other material appearing on DayPoems retain full rights to their work. Any requests for publication in other venues must be negotiated separately with the authors. The editor of DayPoems will gladly assist in putting interested parties in contact with the authors. |
The Online Bonsai Icon Collection http://www.hav.com/tobic.html |