The English poet Geoffrey Hill died at eighty-four in 2016
His first poem, the aptly named Genesis, taken from his first book, For The Unfallen, was published in the Summer of 1953
I
Against the burly air I strode,
Where the tight ocean heaves its load,
Crying the miracles of God.
And first I brought the sea to bear
Upon the dead weight of the land;
And the waves flourished at my prayer,
The rivers spawned their sand.
And where the streams were salt and full,
The tough pig-headed salmon strove,
Curbing the ebb and the tide’s pull
To reach the steady hills above.
II
The second day I stood and saw
The osprey plunge with triggered claw,
Feathering blood along the shore,
To lay the living sinew bare.
III
And I renounced, on the fourth day,
This fierce and unregenerate clay,
Building as a huge myth for man
The watery Leviathan,
And made the glove-winged albatross
Scour the ashes of the sea
Where Capricorn and Zero cross,
A brooding immortality—
Such as the charméd phoenix has
In the unwithering tree.
IV
The phoenix burns as cold as frost;
And, like a legendary ghost
The phantom-bird goes wild and lost,
Upon pointless ocean tossed.
So, the fifth day, I turned again
To flesh and blood and the blood’s pain.
V
On the sixth day, as I rode
In haste about the works of God,
With spurs I plucked the horse’s blood.
By blood we live, the hot, the cold
To ravage and redeem the world:
There is no bloodless myth will hold.
And by Christ’s blood are men made free
Though in close shrouds their bodies lie
Under the rough pelt of the sea;
Though Earth has rolled beneath her weight
The bones that cannot bear the light.
***
Genesis of the poem –
I can see myself…I was standing
looking out and there was somebody I knew walking along the far side of Liddon …
and as I looked, in a kind of vacant mood, a line and a half came into my head,
and I didn’t know what to do with that line and a half. And then later, during
vacations back in Worcestershire, I began to shape the poem that was ‘Genesis,’
and it appeared in an Oxford pamphlet, one of the Fantasy pamphlets, in the
October or November of that same year, 1952 (Geoffrey Hill)
***
The blood of life, hidden yet
vital, throbbing and felt, like Faith, the blood of belief and action, the blood that gives shape
and meaning to the individual and country, the blood that creates and destroys
-
By blood we
live, the hot, the cold
To ravage and
redeem the world
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