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letra de intimations of immortality - gerald finzi

there was a time when meadow, grove, and stream
the earth, and every common sight
to me did seem
apparell’d in celestial light
the glory and the freshness of a dream
it is not now as it hath been of yore;—
turn wheresoe’er i may
by night or day
the things which i have seen i now can see no more

the rainbow comes and goes
and lovely is the rose;
the moon doth with delight
look round her when the heavens are bare;
waters on a starry night
are beautiful and fair;
the sunshine is a glorious birth;
but yet i know, where’er i go
that there hath p-ss’d away a glory from the earth

now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song
and while the young lambs bound
as to the tabor’s sound
to me alone there came a thought of grief:
a timely utterance gave that thought relief
and i again am strong:
the cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
no more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
i hear the echoes through the mountains throng
the winds come to me from the fields of sleep
and all the earth is g-y;
land and sea
give themselves up to jollity
and with the heart of may
doth every beast keep holiday;—
thou child of joy
shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
shepherd-boy!

ye blessèd creatures, i have heard the call
ye to each other make; i see
the heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
my heart is at your festival
my head hath its coronal
the fulness of your bliss, i feel—i feel it all
o evil day! if i were sullen
while earth herself is adorning
this sweet may-morning
and the children are culling
on every side
in a thousand valleys far and wide
fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm
and the babe leaps up on his mother’s arm:—
i hear, i hear, with joy i hear!
—but there’s a tree, of many, one
a single field which i have look’d upon
both of them speak of something that is gone:
the pansy at my feet
doth the same tale repeat:
whither is fled the visionary gleam?
where is it now, the glory and the dream?

our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
the soul that rises with us, our life’s star
hath had elsewhere its setting
and cometh from afar:
not in entire forgetfulness
and not in utter nakedness
but trailing clouds of glory do we come
from god, who is our home:
heaven lies about us in our infancy!
shades of the prison-house begin to close
upon the growing boy
but he beholds the light, and whence it flows
he sees it in his joy;
the youth, who daily farther from the east
must travel, still is nature’s priest
and by the vision splendid
is on his way attended;
at length the man perceives it die away
and fade into the light of common day

earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
yearnings she hath in her own natural kind
and, even with something of a mother’s mind
and no unworthy aim
the homely nurse doth all she can
to make her foster-child, her inmate man
forget the glories he hath known
and that imperial palace whence he came

o joy! that in our embers
is something that doth live
that nature yet remembers
what was so fugitive!
the thought of our past years in me doth breed
perpetual benediction: not indeed
for that which is most worthy to be blest—
delight and liberty, the simple creed
of childhood, whether busy or at rest
with new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:—
not for these i raise
the song of thanks and praise;
but for those obstinate questionings
of sense and outward things
fallings from us, vanishings;
blank misgivings of a creature
moving about in worlds not realized
high instincts before which our mortal nature
did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
but for those first affections
those shadowy recollections
which, be they what they may
are yet the fountain-light of all our day
are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
our noisy years seem moments in the being
of the eternal silence: truths that wake
to perish never:
which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour
nor man nor boy
nor all that is at enmity with joy
can utterly abolish or destroy! 165
hence in a season of calm weather
though inland far we be
our souls have sight of that immortal sea
which brought us h-ther
can in a moment travel thither
and see the children sport upon the sh-r-
and hear the mighty waters rolling evermore

then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
and let the young lambs bound
as to the tabor’s sound!
we in thought will join your throng
ye that pipe and ye that play
ye that through your hearts to-day
feel the gladness of the may!
what though the radiance which was once so bright
be now for ever taken from my sight
though nothing can bring back the hour
of splendour in the gr-ss, of glory in the flower;
we will grieve not, rather find
strength in what remains behind;
in the primal sympathy
which having been must ever be;
in the soothing thoughts that spring
out of human suffering;
in the faith that looks through death
in years that bring the philosophic mind

and o ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves
forebode not any severing of our loves!
yet in my heart of hearts i feel your might;
i only have relinquish’d one delight
to live beneath your more habitual sway
i love the brooks which down their channels fret
even more than when i tripp’d lightly as they;
the innocent brightness of a new-born day
is lovely yet;
the clouds that gather round the setting sun
do take a sober colouring from an eye
that hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality;
another race hath been, and other palms are won
thanks to the human heart by which we live
thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears
to me the meanest flower that blows can give
thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears

- gerald finzi

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