Poem: “The Grand Canyon” by Henry Van Dyke

Download PDF

American Literature – Children Books – American Poetry – Henry Van Dyke – Poems by Henry Van Dyke
< < < Sierra Madre
The Heavenly Hills of Holland > > >

The Grand Canyon

DAYBREAK

What makes the lingering Night so cling to thee?Thou vast, profound, primeval hiding-placeOf ancient secrets,—gray and ghostly gulfCleft in the green of this high forest land,And crowded in the dark with giant forms!Art thou a grave, a prison, or a shrine?

A stillness deeper than the dearth of soundBroods over thee: a living silence breathesPerpetual incense from thy dim abyss.The morning-stars that sang above the bowerOf Eden, passing over thee, are dumbWith trembling bright amazement; and the DawnSteals through the glimmering pines with naked feet,Her hand upon her lips, to look on thee!She peers into thy depths with silent prayerFor light, more light, to part thy purple veil.O Earth, swift-rolling Earth, reveal, reveal,—Turn to the East, and show upon thy breastThe mightiest marvel in the realm of Time!

‘Tis done,—the morning miracle of light,—The resurrection of the world of huesThat die with dark, and daily rise againWith every rising of the splendid Sun!

Be still, my heart! Now Nature holds her breathTo see the solar flood of radiance leapAcross the chasm, and crown the western rimOf alabaster with a far-awayRampart of pearl, and flowing down by wallsOf changeful opal, deepen into goldOf topaz, rosy gold of tourmaline,Crimson of garnet, green and gray of jade,Purple of amethyst, and ruby red,Beryl, and sard, and royal porphyry;Until the cataract of colour breaksUpon the blackness of the granite floor.

How far below! And all between is cleftAnd carved into a hundred curving milesOf unimagined architecture! Tombs,Temples, and colonnades are neighboured thereBy fortresses that Titans might defend,And amphitheatres where Gods might strive.Cathedrals, buttressed with unnumbered tiersOf ruddy rock, lift to the sapphire skyA single spire of marble pure as snow;And huge aërial palaces ariseLike mountains built of unconsuming flame.Along the weathered walls, or standing deepIn riven valleys where no foot may tread,Are lonely pillars, and tall monumentsOf perished æons and forgotten things.My sight is baffled by the wide arrayOf countless forms: my vision reels and swimsAbove them, like a bird in whirling winds.Yet no confusion fills the awful chasm;But spacious order and a sense of peaceBrood over all. For every shape that loomsMajestic in the throng, is set apartFrom all the others by its far-flung shade,Blue, blue, as if a mountain-lake were there.

How still it is! Dear God, I hardly dareTo breathe, for fear the fathomless abyssWill draw me down into eternal sleep.

What force has formed this masterpiece of awe?What hands have wrought these wonders in the waste?O river, gleaming in the narrow riftOf gloom that cleaves the valley’s nether deep,—Fierce Colorado, prisoned by thy toil,And blindly toiling still to reach the sea,—Thy waters, gathered from the snows and springsAmid the Utah hills, have carved this roadOf glory to the Californian Gulf.But now, O sunken stream, thy splendour lost,‘Twixt iron walls thou rollest turbid waves,Too far away to make their fury heard!

At sight of thee, thou sullen labouring slaveOf gravitation,—yellow torrent pouredFrom distant mountains by no will of thine,Through thrice a hundred centuries of slowFallings and liftings of the crust of Earth,—At sight of thee my spirit sinks and fails.Art thou alone the Maker? Is the blindUnconscious power that drew thee dumbly downTo cut this gash across the layered globe,The sole creative cause of all I see?Are force and matter all? The rest a dream?

Then is thy gorge a canyon of despair,A prison for the soul of man, a graveOf all his dearest daring hopes! The worldWherein we live and move is meaningless,No spirit here to answer to our own!The stars without a guide: The chance-born EarthAdrift in space, no Captain on the ship:Nothing in all the universe to proveEternal wisdom and eternal love!And man, the latest accident of Time,—Who thinks he loves, and longs to understand,Who vainly suffers, and in vain is brave,Who dupes his heart with immortality,—Man is a living lie,—a bitter jestUpon himself,—a conscious grain of sandLost in a desert of unconsciousness,Thirsting for God and mocked by his own thirst.

Spirit of Beauty, mother of delight,Thou fairest offspring of OmnipotenceInhabiting this lofty lone abode,Speak to my heart again and set me freeFrom all these doubts that darken earth and heaven!Who sent thee forth into the wildernessTo bless and comfort all who see thy face?Who clad thee in this more than royal robeOf rainbows? Who designed these jewelled thronesFor thee, and wrought these glittering palaces?Who gave thee power upon the soul of manTo lift him up through wonder into joy?God! let the radiant cliffs bear witness, God!Let all the shining pillars signal, God!He only, on the mystic loom of light.Hath woven webs of loveliness to clotheHis most majestic works: and He aloneHath delicately wrought the cactus-flowerTo star the desert floor with rosy bloom.

O Beauty, handiwork of the Most High,Where’er thou art He tells his Love to man,And lo, the day breaks, and the shadows flee!

Now, far beyond all language and all artIn thy wild splendour, Canyon marvellous,The secret of thy stillness lies unveiledIn wordless worship! This is holy ground;Thou art no grave, no prison, but a shrine.Garden of Temples filled with Silent Praise,If God were blind thy Beauty could not be!

February 24-26, 1913.

< < < Sierra Madre
The Heavenly Hills of Holland > > >

American Literature – Children Books – American Poetry – Henry Van Dyke – Poems by Henry Van Dyke

If you liked this article, subscribe , put likes, write comments!

Share on social networks

Visit us on Facebook or Twitter

Check out Our Latest Posts

The Grand Canyon

DAYBREAK

Leave a comment Cancel reply