Humilitas

The following is one of my favorite poems by Longfellow, along with a poem ("Humilitas") I wrote in response. Take my antagonistic reply to the Master as a sign of respect, not disdain. -KEDB

Excelsior

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, ‘mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!

His brow was sad; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior!

In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Above, the spectral glaciers shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan,
Excelsior!

“Try not the Pass!” the old man said;
“Dark lowers the tempest overhead,
The roaring torrent is deep and wide!”
And loud that clarion voice replied,
Excelsior!

“O stay,” the maiden said, “and rest
Thy weary head upon this breast!”
A tear stood in his bright blue eye,
But steel he answered with a sigh,
Excelsior!

“Beware the pine tree’s withered branch!
Beware the awful avalanche!”
This was the peasant’s last Good-night,
A voice replied, far up the height,
Excelsior!

At break of day, as heavenward
The pious monks of Saint Bernard
Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,
A voice cried through the startled air,
Excelsior!

A traveler, by the faithful hound,
Half-buried in the snow was found,
Sill grasping in his hand of ice
The banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!

There in the twilight cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell, like a falling star,
Excelsior!

Humilitas

By Keith E. D. Buhler
Febraury 2008

To Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

… As morning sun passed mountain crest,
And Alpine town with gold-light dressed,
A pitied youth lay, dead and low,
Who could not say, but coldly showed:
”Humilitas!”

The pious monks of St. Bernard,
Iron-sharp of mind, snow-soft of heart,
Seeing such frozen, foolish pride
Stooped down in prayer, and, tearful, cried:
“Humilitas!”

Quoth maidens: "Father, 'tis no good..."
Quoth peasants: "Look, returns his blood!"
As dead-white hand released its grasp,
The boy's mouth gaped and choked and gasped:
"Humilitas!"

Quoth he: "My fathers, I am well.
Praise Christ, my friends! I come from hell
Where in black serpent's clutch I lay!
He drew back when ‘e heard you pray:
"Humilitas!"

Before the mid-day sun was full
Monks whisked him to St. George Chapel:
"My son, today begins Great Lent.
To prayers! To tears! Let us repent!
Humilitas!"

And from that day 'till Easter morn
In labor was the lad re-born;
No chore too vile, no task too mean,
He sang and scooped the manger clean,
"Humilitas!"

"My son, you're young and in good health;
In flesh revived, now die to self!
We live not 'till we give our life,
By proving full -- to Church or wife --
Humilitas!"

“I promise every day to die;
I’ll seek the maiden as my bride.”
He won her heart, offered a band
Inscribed with Heaven's holy brand:
"Humilitas!"

In autumn, wife gave suckl'ing breast,
While new man’s love grew tireless.
"I know her name, my dear. 'Twill be
That which compels the Trinity:
Humilitas!"

His brow now bright, deep eyes now told
Of joy beyond earth's meagre mold.
A voice like rich, gold clarion rang
Each new morning as he sang:
"Humilitas!"

Glory to God Alone.