O'shaughnessy's Ode

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    We are the music makers,  And we are the dreamers of dreams,Wandering by lone sea-breakers,  And sitting by desolate streams;—World-losers and world-forsakers, On whom the pale moon gleams:Yet we are the movers and shakers  Of the world for ever, it seems.
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    With wonderful deathless dittiesWe build up the world's great cities, And out of a fabulous storyWe fashion an empire's glory:One man with a dream, at pleasure,  Shall go forth and conquer a crown;And three with a new song's measure Can trample a kingdom down.
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    We, in the ages lying  In the buried past of the earth,Built Nineveh with our sighing,  And Babel itself in our mirth; And o'erthrew them with prophesying  To the old of the new world's worth;For each age is a dream that is dying,  Or one that is coming to birth.
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    A breath of our inspiration Is the life of each generation;A wondrous thing of our dreamingUnearthly, impossible seeming—The soldier, the king, and the peasant  Are working together in one, Till our dream shall become their present,  And their work in the world be done.
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    They had no vision amazingOf the goodly house they are raising;They had no divine foreshowing     35Of the land to which they are going:But on one man's soul it hath broken,  A light that doth not depart;And his look, or a word he hath spoken,  Wrought flame in another man's heart.
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    And therefore to-day is thrillingWith a past day's late fulfilling;And the multitudes are enlistedIn the faith that their fathers resisted,And, scorning the dream of to-morrow, Are bringing to pass, as they may,In the world, for its joy or its sorrow,  The dream that was scorned yesterday.
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    But we, with our dreaming and singing,  Ceaseless and sorrowless we! The glory about us clinging  Of the glorious futures we see,Our souls with high music ringing:  O men! it must ever beThat we dwell, in our dreaming and singing, A little apart from ye.
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    For we are afar with the dawning  And the suns that are not yet high,And out of the infinite morning  Intrepid you hear us cry How, spite of your human scorning,  Once more God's future draws nigh,And already goes forth the warning  That ye of the past must die.
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    Great hail! we cry to the comers From the dazzling unknown shore;Bring us hither your sun and your summers;  And renew our world as of yore;You shall teach us your song's new numbers,  And things that we dreamed not before: Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers,  And a singer who sings no more.

Card Set Information

Author:
Anonymous
ID:
328207
Filename:
O'shaughnessy's Ode
Updated:
2017-02-06 23:10:17
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shaughnessy
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Description:
Stanzas of Arthur O'shaughnessy's Ode
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