Poetry From Women
Saturday, October 19, 2013
By Louisa S. Guggenberger (1845–1895)
are sea and sky about me,
And yet nothing sense can mark;
For a mist fills all the midnight
Adding blindness to its dark.
There is not the faintest echo
From the life of yesterday:
Not the vaguest stir foretelling
Of a morrow on the way.
’Tis negation’s hour of triumph
In the absence of the sun;
’Tis the hour of endings, ended,
Of beginnings, unbegun.
Yet the voice of awful silence
Bids my waiting spirit hark;
There is action in the stillness,
There is progress in the dark.
In the drift of things and forces
Comes the better from the worse,
Swings the whole of Nature upward,
Wakes, and thinks—a universe.
There will be
And of life, more life that
Though the sum of force be constant
Yet the Living ever grows.
So we sing of evolution,
And step strongly on our ways;
And we live through nights in patience,
And we learn the worth of days.
In the silence of murk midnight
Is revealed to me this thing:
Nothing hinders, all enables
Nature’s vast awakening.
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Louisa S. Guggenberger
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