Charles Hamilton Sorley (Чарльз Сорли)
The River
He watched the river running black Beneath the blacker sky; It did not pause upon its track Of silent instancy; It did not hasten, nor was slack, But still went gliding by. It was so black. There was no wind Its patience to defy. It was not that the man had sinned, Or that he wished to die. Only the wide and silent tide Went slowly sweeping by. The mass of blackness moving down Filled full of dreams the eye; The lights of all the lighted town Upon its breast did lie; The tall black trees were upside down In the river phantasy. He had an envy for its black Inscrutability; He felt impatiently the lack Of that great law whereby The river never travels back But still goes gliding by; But still goes gliding by, nor clings To passing things that die, Nor shows the secrets that it brings From its strange source on high. And he felt "We are two living things And the weaker one is I." He saw the town, that living stack Piled up against the sky. He saw the river running black On, on and on: O, why Could he not move along his track With such consistency? He had a yearning for the strength That comes of unity: The union of one soul at length With its twin-soul to lie: To be a part of one great strength That moves and cannot die. * * * * * * He watched the river running black Beneath the blacker sky. He pulled his coat about his back, He did not strive nor cry. He put his foot upon the track That still went gliding by. The thing that never travels back Received him silently. And there was left no shred, no wrack To show the reason why: Only the river running black Beneath the blacker sky.
February 1913
Charles Hamilton Sorley’s other poems:
Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):
