In electronic nature, no matter how estranged, nothing can't be prevented from reflecting the sky.
O rapid days, electric hours,
Flashing with all that kindles life,--
O shifting scene of suns and showers,--
O melodrame of love and strife,--
Such stirring racing days as these
Are all too full of strong effects
For stale simplicity to please,
Or equal what the world expects.
Time was, a wonder lived nine days,
And sorry talents grew to fame;
But now, one minute's curious gaze
Is all we give to note or name:
Glutted with news of all things strange,
We scarcely care to watch the turns
Our quick kaleidoscope of Change
Is working in the world's concerns.
The foaming river of events
Rushes adown its rocky steep,
And causes, facts, and consequents
Are hurl'd together in a heap,
And keen Excitement's rainbow light
Hangs iridescent o'er the fall
Of waters rushing in their might,
Solemnly overwhelming all,--
Ay,-- a Niagara-life is ours!
No rest, but ever hurried on
By the great deep's gigantic powers,
By the strong wind Euroclydon,--
Yea, by the mighty flood of Fate,
Yea, by the gale of human crimes
We speed along, as if "too late"
Were the great terror of the times.
The lotus-eaters all are dead;
There is no nook for quiet thought;
The halcyon birds of peace are fled,
And calm content has come to nought;
Spur on,-- spur on! our steeds are strong,
No need to spare them in the pace;
With reckless energy headlong
We all resolve to win the race.
O day of hot competing strife!
O crowded scene of struggling sin!
What chance of any prize in life
Has any tyro battling in?
The rarest worth wins little gold;
Wisdom has barely wit to live;
What chance, compared with calms of old,
Does all our hurly-burly give?
What chance? -- pray, labour, and be still;
They do not drown who lie afloat,--
And quietness sets free the will
To pilot well the crankest boat;
And,-- he that stands aloof from strife,
Calmly resolved to thread the maze,
Shall quell to his Success in life
The riot of these rapid days.
Martin Farquhar Tupper, "Railway times"
2 comments:
Very different. I feel like I'm looking at the sky from the bottom of a plant.
I don't know where did I read that odd vision or metaphor of the human as an inverted plant, with its head rooted in the ground, growing and standing among the stars. In that case we are all looking at the sky from the bottom of a plant.
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