Edwin Markham

23 April 1852 - 7 March 1940 / Oregon City, Oregon

The Whirlwind Road

THE MUSES wrapped in mysteries of light
Came in a rush of music on the night;
And I was lifted wildly on quick wings,
And borne away into the deep of things.
The dead doors of my being broke apart;
A wind of rapture blew across the heart;
The inward song of worlds rang still and clear;
I felt the Mystery the Muses fear;
Yet they went swiftening on the ways un-trod,
And hurled me breathless at the feet of God.

I felt faint touches of the Final Truth,—
Moments of trembling love, moments of youth.
A vision swept away the human wall;
Slowly I saw the meaning of it all—
Meaning of life and time and death and birth,—
But cannot tell it to the men of Earth.
I only point the way, and they must go
The whirlwind road of song if they would know.
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