Upon the Peak of Sanneen

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Upon the Peak of Sanneen

My soul and I, upon the peak

Of Sanneen grim and grey,

Sat musing in the twilight of

A sombre summer day.

“Great Saturn and the Moon are gone

Together o’er the sea;

But will great Saturn e’er return

Should he elope with thee?

Ah well, who knows? when thou art gone

I, too, shall sink within the brine⁠—

I, too, shall sail above this peak

And signal yonder groves of pine.

Behold the melancholy sky

Of this forgotten land;

On this side are the valleys bleak,

On this, the desert sand.”

“I hear the moaning of the wind,”

My sad companion said;

“The snow is gathering in me

And the night is overhead.

Long have we dwelt together, friend,

In our sweet ennui;

But were I now to take my leave,

Alas, what would I be?”

“O, think not of departing,

Ah, too young I am to die;

I’ll find the magic wings; and there

Still hangs a friendly sky.

Let us above these pines, and clouds,

And scents awhile yet dwell;⁠—

Where wouldst thou go, if thou wert now

To sigh a last farewell?”

Thou seest the busy elements

Dissolving one by one

The souls that are acquitted,

For the all-absorbing sun.

Let’s sing the song of darkness then;

Thy prison is the Whole;⁠—

What canst thou do, where wilt thou go,

What wilt thou be, my Soul?

Thou wouldst not be the air that weighs

Upon the rising dust;

Thou wouldst not be the fog that chokes

The air in savage lust.

Thou wouldst not be the clouds that block

The smoke’s way to a star;

Nor linger in the guilty tears

Of clouds before the bar.

Thou wouldst not be the rain that taunts

The all-devouring sea,

Itself destroying many a nest

In bush and rock and tree.

Thou wouldst not be the thunder’s tongue

Spell-binding all the spheres;

Nor wouldst thou be the lightning blade

That stabs and disappears.

Thou wouldst not be the dew that falls

Alike on thorn and flower;

Nor even the morning zephyr

That blows o’er den and bower.

Thou wouldst not be the virgin snow

Set free from yonder clouds,

Only to melt beneath the feet

Of surging human crowds.

“No! none of these,” my Soul replied;

“I’ll shiver ever thrall;

O let me rise, for I would be

The sky above them all.”