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“New Year’s Chimes” by Francis Thompson 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 (16 Dec 1859 – 13 Nov 1907)
What is the song the stars sing?
(And a million songs are as song of one.)
This is the song the stars sing:
Sweeter song’s none.
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One to set, and many to sing,
(And a million songs are as song of one),
One to stand, and many to cling,
The many things, and the one Thing,
The one that runs not, the many that run.
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The ever new weaveth the ever old
(And a million songs are as song of one).
Ever telling the never told;
The silver saith, and the said is gold,
And done ever the never done.
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The chase that’s chased is the Lord o’ the chase
(And a million songs are as song of one),
And the pursued cries on the race;
And the hounds in leash are the hounds that run.
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Hidden stars by the shown stars’ sheen;
(And a million suns are but as one);
Colours unseen by the colours seen,
And sounds unheard heard sounds between,
And a night is in the light of the sun.
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An ambuscade of light in night,
(And a million secrets are but as one),
And a night is dark in the sun’s light,
And a world in the world man looks upon.
​
Hidden stars by the shown stars’ wings,
(And a million cycles are but as one),
And a world with unapparent strings
Knits the simulant world of things;
Behold, and vision thereof is none.
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The world above in the world below
(And a million worlds are but as one),
And the One in all; as the sun’s strength so
Strives in all strength, glows in all glow
Of the earth that wits not, and man thereon.
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Braced in its own fourfold embrace
(And a million strengths are as strength of one),
And round it all God’s arms of grace,
The world, so as the Vision says,
Doth with great lightning-tramples run.
​
And thunder bruiteth into thunder,
(And a million sounds are as sound of one),
From stellate peak to peak is tossed a voice of wonder,
And the height stoops down to the depths thereunder,
And sun leans forth to his brother-sun.
​
And the more ample years unfold
(With a million songs as song of one),
A little new of the ever old,
A little told of the never told,
Added act of the never done.
​
Loud the descant, and low the theme,
(A million songs are as song of one);
And the dream of the world is dream in dream,
But the one Is is, or nought could seem;
And the song runs round to the song begun.
​
This is the song the stars sing,
(Tonèd all in time);
Tintinnabulous, tuned to ring
A multitudinous-single thing,
Rung all in rhyme.