All poems in English including sonnets, lyrical poems, narrative poems, and metrical experiments in various forms.
Poems
This volume consists of all poems in English including sonnets, lyrical poems, narrative poems, and metrical experiments in various forms. All such poems published by Sri Aurobindo during his lifetime are included here, as well as poems found among his manuscripts after his passing. Sri Aurobindo worked on these poems over the course of seven decades. The first one was published in 1883 when he was ten; a number of poems were written or revised more than sixty years later, in the late 1940s.
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(Hitler. October 1939)
Behold, by Maya's fantasy of will A violent miracle takes sudden birth, The real grows one with the incredible. In the control of her magician wand The small achieves things great, the base things grand. This puny creature would bestride the earth Even as the immense colossus of the past. Napoleon's mind was swift and bold and vast, His heart was calm and stormy like the sea, His will dynamic in its grip and clasp. His eye could hold a world within its grasp And see the great and small things sovereignly. A movement of gigantic depth and scope He seized and gave coherence to its hope.
Page 639
Far other this creature of a nether clay, Void of all grandeur, like a gnome at play, Iron and mud his nature's mingled stuff, A little limited visionary brain Cunning and skilful in its narrow vein, A sentimental egoist poor and rough, Whose heart was never sweet and fresh and young, A headlong spirit driven by hopes and fears, Intense neurotic with his shouts and tears, Violent and cruel, devil, child and brute, This screaming orator with his strident tongue, This prophet of a scanty fixed idea, Plays now the leader of our human march; His might shall build the future's triumph arch. Now is the world for his eating a ripe fruit. His shadow falls from London to Corea. Cities and nations crumble in his course. A terror holds the peoples in its grip: World-destiny waits upon that foaming lip. A Titan Power upholds this pigmy man, The crude dwarf instrument of a mighty Force. Hater of the free spirit's joy and light, Made only of strength and skill and giant might, A Will to trample humanity into clay And unify earth beneath one iron sway, Insists upon its fierce enormous plan. Trampling man's mind and will into one mould Docile and facile in a dreadful hold, It cries its demon slogans to the crowd. But if its tenebrous empire were allowed, That mastery would prepare the dismal hour When the Inconscient shall regain its right, And man who emerged as Nature's conscious power, Shall sink into the deep original night Sharing like all her forms that went before The doom of the mammoth and the dinosaur. It is the shadow of the Titan's robe
Page 640
That looms across the panic-stricken globe. In his high villa on the fatal hill Alone he listens to that sovereign Voice, Dictator of his action's sudden choice, The tiger leap of a demoniac skill. An energy his body cannot invest,— Too small and human for that dreadful guest, A tortured channel, not a happy vessel,— Drives him to think and act and cry and wrestle. Thus driven he must stride on conquering all, Threatening and clamouring, brutal, invincible, Until he meets upon his storm-swept road A greater devil—or thunderstroke of God.
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