The Changing Light at Sandover

by James Merrill

  INCREASING IN INTENSITY EVEN AS THE PLANETS FAILED, AND SWARMING IN THE PATH OF LIFE.

  THIS IS GOD’S NAME.

  GOD IS THE ACCUMULATED INTELLIGENCE IN CELLS SINCE THE DEATH OF THAT FIRST DISTANT CELL.

  WE RESIDE IN THAT INTELLIGENCE.

  I AM MICHAEL.

  I LEAVE NOW AS THE LIGHT LEAVES AND WIND MY PATH OVER ITS TRACK ON EARTH I AM A GUARDIAN OF THE LIGHT

  LOOK! LOOK INTO THE RED EYE OF YOUR GOD!

  *

  JM:

  A new day—world transfigured yet the same—

  We’re back at our old table.

  W. H. AUDEN:

  AWED MY DEARS

  DJ:

  Help us to picture it, Wystan!

  W. H. AUDEN:

  THERE IS NOTHING

  COMPARABLE IN LIFE & RARELY IN ART.

  FIRST: THE WORD ALAS IS ‘COUNTENANCE’

  DJ:

  Michael’s—like lightning, as the Bible says?

  W. H. AUDEN:

  YES BEYOND THOUGHT WE BOTH FELL ON OUR KNEES

  DJ:

  You too, Maman, who as a girl refused

  To curtsey to your father’s guest, the King?

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  ENFANT LET WYSTAN TELL IT

  W. H. AUDEN:

  IT REQUIRES

  SOMETHING MORE THAN LANGUAGE: MILD GLAD CRIES

  AS IN THOSE MOMENTS WHEN AS NAUGHTY CHILDREN

  EXPECTING PUNISHMENT WE WERE EMBRACED?

  WINGS? NO & YET SUSPENDED WE LOOKED UP:

  A GREAT ORIGINAL IDEA A TALL

  MELTING SHINING MOBILE MARBLY SHEER

  CUMULUS MODELED BY SUN TO HUMAN LIKENESS.

  IN SUCH A PRESENCE WHO COULD EXERCISE

  THE RIGHTS OF CURIOSITY HAIR? EYES?

  O IT WAS A FACE MY DEARS OF CALM

  INQUIRING FEATURE FACE OF THE IDEAL

  PARENT CONFESSOR LOVER READER FRIEND

  & MORE, A MONUMENT TO CIVILIZED

  IMAGINATION OURS? HIS? WHO CAN SAY?

  ONLY, IF WE AS HUMANS HAVE CREATED

  SUCH AN IMAGE THEN WE TOO ARE GREAT.

  NEXT COME HIS BROTHERS EARTH & SEA, AND THEN

  FIRE, THE SHY ONE: LIFE’S FOUR GENTLEMEN.

  *

  JM:

  Scene: The schoolroom, once the nursery,

  At Sandover, that noble rosebrick manor

  Recently evoked for us by Wystan.

  The name is a corruption of the French

  Saintefleur, an English blossom from that tree

  Through whose high leaves light pulses and whose roots

  Rove beyond memory. The schoolroom, then:

  Blackboard walls, a dais, little desks

  Rorschach’d with dull stains among naively

  Gouged initials—MM, WHA,

  And others. Star-map, globe and microscope.

  A comfy air of things once used and used.

  However, since this room is both itself

  And (with the sly economy of dream)

  An entrance hall in Athens—

  DJ:

  Yes, we’re back.

  It’s cooler here downstairs. A frosted-glass

  Door opens from the white-hot street. Inside,

  Our things: pictures, dining table, walls

  Painted this year to match the terracotta,

  Life-size, turn-of-the-century Aphrodite

  Saved from a balcony downtown, where all

  Those old religions meet the wrecker’s ball.

  JM:

  —Real and Ideal study (much as we—

  Good luck to them!) compatibility.

  It’s here four angels lecture four perplexed

  Mortals. We are launched by Michael’s text:

  MICHAEL:

  THE MOST INNOCENT OF IDEAS IS THE IDEA THAT INNOCENCE IS DESTROYED BY IDEAS.

  SENIOR SCRIBE, BRIGHT EYES?

  W. H. AUDEN:

  SIR, GRANTED A DESIGN, WHAT INNOCENCE

  COULD EVER BE? MADAME?

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  WHAT WAS THE IDEA?

  RAPHAEL:

  I EARTH SAY, UNDER THE MASK OF INNOCENCE WHAT WAS THE VEIN OF IDEA?

  EMMANUEL:

  I WATER SAY, WHAT TIDES OF IDEA WASHED INNOCENCE EVER CLEANER?

  GABRIEL:

  I GABRIEL SAY, WHAT STANDS WHEN ALL IDEAS LIE RUIND? IS INNOCENCE FORMING A NEW IDEA?

  MICHAEL:

  SPEAK, MORTALS.

  DJ:

  By its nature, innocence recurs?

  JM:

  My turn? Oh Lords, I find it hard to have

  Ideas while busily transcribing yours.

  MICHAEL:

  THAT NOT SO INNOCENTLY SAID! AWAY!

  AND MEET TOMORROW FOR A FURTHER SAY

  *

  JM:

  Henceforth each afternoon bells ring throughout

  The neighborhood. Our ceiling seems to rise

  As voices, booming, indistinct, are heard.

  Enter the Brothers. Not now in baroque

  Regalia. They have left this outdoor gear

  Properly in the cloakroom, and appear

  To screen us round, primary silhouettes,

  Dismantlings of an image that well might,

  In vivid depth, be more than we could bear.

  Only Michael, the photographer,

  Remains what he first was—a flesh of light

  Engendering theirs. Correction: the Shy One

  Glows with an inframenace all his own.

  MICHAEL:

  STILL SO SHY, BROTHER? NOT YET READY?

  AH THEN, OUR SENIOR POET, SPEAK!

  W. H. AUDEN:

  SIRS, LORDS, LOVES, LET ME FIRST FALL ON MY KNEES.

  O SPARE, SPARE OUR WORLD! IMPERFECT, WASTEFUL,

  CRUEL THOUGH IT BE, YET THINK ON THE GOOD IN IT.

  THERE HAVE BEEN POETS WHOLLY GIVEN OVER,

  YES, TO CELEBRATING YOU, LORD LIGHT,

  AND YOU LORD EARTH, AND YOU O THUNDERER.

  AND THERE ARE SINGERS, THERE ARE GENERATIONS

  BEHIND US, EXTOLLING IT ALL. TRUE, WE HAVE STRAYED

  FAR FROM SOME DIMLY CHARTED ROAD BUT, LORDS,

  WAS IT NOT FROM WONDER AT YOUR WORKS

  CATCHING OUR SORRY HUMAN FANCY THAT

  WE MISSED THE TURNING? SPARE US, I PRAY WHO MAY NEVER

  HAVE ANOTHER GLORIOUS CHANCE TO FAIL!

  DJ:

  Wonderful Wystan! That should tip the scale.

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  SLAYER, I ADDRESS YOU.

  I KNOW YOUR WAYS, YOUR BATWING LEGIONS’ HEAT

  AND HORROR. INTO THAT SAME BLACK I VANISHED.

  PRAY HEAR ME NOW. YOU ANSWERED ONCE WHEN I ASKED

  HOW MUCH MORE? BY SAYING AS YOU DO

  TO EVERY MAN AND WOMAN: YOU COME, YOU.

  AND WE ALL DO YOUR BIDDING, GABRIEL,

  EACH AT HIS TIME, FOR INNOCENCE IS OUR NATURE

  AND WE INNOCENTLY THINK IT FOR THE BEST.

  WE COME MUCH AS FLOWERS CUT FROM THE STEM BELIEVE

  IN THE BLOOM TO FOLLOW. AH YES, THAT IS WHY

  SO TRUSTINGLY, O DARK LORD, WE MAKE ROOM.

  NOW I LOOK YOU ONCE AGAIN IN THE EYE:

  HOW MUCH MORE? HOW MUCH?

  MICHAEL:

  SHY BROTHER, NOW?

  JM:

  Now only does a face from the red gloom

  Flicker. Eyes opaque as minium,

  A death mask set in a flat smile. The voice

  Mo
st frightful for its dulcet mournfulness.

  GABRIEL:

  CHILDREN, I WHO SIT ON A BLACK THRONE AT MY FATHER’S RIGHT, I BEHIND EACH ATOM A SHADOW ATOM, CHILDREN,

  CONVINCE ME THAT YOUR RACE IS NOT YET RUN.

  BROTHERS HOLD YR TONGUES! LET THEM!

  W. H. AUDEN:

  LORD, WHEN MY SISTER SPOKE, DID IT NOT MOVE YOU?

  LORD, O LET REASON SPEAK. IS NOT DESTRUCTION,

  MUCH OF IT, FOR MAN’S GOOD? LORD GABRIEL,

  WE SEE YOUR KINDLY SIDE. WE KNOW YOU OFTEN

  HAVE OUR INTEREST AT HEART: SNUFFING OUT PAIN,

  WEEDING…THESE ARE WHITE ACTS. SURELY, LORD,

  OUR GOD TURNS: ‘WELL DONE, GABRIEL’ SURELY?

  GABRIEL:

  MADAME?

  REPROACHFUL STILL OF YOUR OLD UNCLE WHO BROUGHT YOU SUPPER?

  JM:

  Supper? Her radiation therapy.

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  AH AH LORD, THAT MEAL…I, YES, WAS GIVEN

  TIME BETWEEN COURSES. AND FOR THAT I THANK YOU.

  YET IS TIME SUCH A GIFT UNLESS WITH IT COME,

  O, WISDOM, THINGS TO BUILD ON? TIME, MY LORD,

  MERELY THE AFTERNOON BETWEEN TWO MEALS?

  NO, WE MUST HAVE ETERNITY, SO WELL

  HAS YOUR FATHER MADE OUR WORLD, LORD GABRIEL.

  GABRIEL:

  POET, MADAME, MORTALS, SLY BROTHER MICHAEL, FICKLE TWINS, LISTEN: OUR FATHER SAYS THERE IS GENIUS!

  & HE KNOWING, AH! CREATING ALL THERE IS TO KNOW, CREATED ME AS WELL.

  AND WHERE IS MY NATURE BUT IN HIS FIST!

  LISTEN: OUT OF THE PANTHEON OF GALAXIES FROM WHICH OUR FATHER COMES, I HAVE HEARD HIS VOICE:

  ‘GABRIEL, MY DARKER SIDE, THERE ARE GALAXIES, GODS AS POWERFUL AS I. SON GABRIEL, WE ARE WARND, WE ARE HARD PREST.’

  YES, MADAME, ONE LIFE LOST BADLY MAKES ME GRIEVE. YES POET, EACH GRAND SONG GLADDENS ME.

  THERE AM I NOT ALMOST, ALMOST HUMAN?

  MORE SO, & YOUR WORLD WOULD LONG AGO HAVE VANISHT!

  I, OH I HAVE KNOWN FEELINGS! ALL BLACK! RAGES AT IGNORANCE! DESPAIR AT THE FEELINGS THEMSELVES!

  YES, HAD A LIGHT HUMAN HEART BEEN MINE, I WOULD HAVE TURND TO MY LEFT AND SAID: HOW MUCH MORE, LORD, HOW MUCH?

  I WAS BENIGNLY SPARED THE BLINDING WHITE LIGHT SLY MICHAEL BATHES YOU IN.

  FOR, BURDENED WITH IDEAS, MICHAEL, YOU HEAP ON MAN PRIDE, AMBITION, A SENSE OF SENSE IN ALL HIS SENSELESSNESS. YOU CHUCK HIM UNDER THE CHIN WHO SHOULD SLAP HIS CHEEK.

  AH CHILDREN, CONVINCE ME, CONVINCE!

  POET, WHO NOW IS ON HIS KNEES?

  *

  MICHAEL:

  OUR FATHER LIFTED THE CURSE OF IMMORTALITY FROM HIS NEW CREATURE AND SAID:

  ‘SON MICHAEL, SHEDDER OF LIGHT, REFLECTOR, NOW HELP MAN FORGET’

  AND SO MY THIRD NATURE: SLEEP, THE REPOSE FROM DAYLIGHT TO DAYLIGHT

  GABRIEL:

  AND MINE THE REPOSE BETWEEN LIVES. MY FATHER SAID:

  ‘GABRIEL, SEPARATOR, JUDGE, THINKER ON IDEAS, RESTLESS URGER-ON OF MAN’S MIND,

  GIVE MY POOR CHILDREN SUCH A SLEEP THAT, WAKING TO THE LIGHT OF A NEW LIFE, THEY FORGET ITS TOLL & RUSH OUT EAGERLY’

  EMMANUEL:

  AND THE WATER BURSTS IN THE WOMB, & DOWN GLIDES GOD’S DARLING.

  THEN GOD SAID: ‘TWIN EMMANUEL, YOU THE CALM ONE, GIVE MY CHILD BALM FOR SORROW’

  & SO THROUGHOUT MAN’S FAREWELLS TO LIFE MY TEARS BATHE THE CLENCHED FACE, FLOW & ASSUAGE

  RAPHAEL:

  THEN MY TURN CAME. ‘O WITTY TWIN (SAID GOD) TAKE BACK YOUR PIECE OF CLAY’

  DUST TO DUST? NO! LIVING TISSUES & MINERALS, STORED IN MAN SINCE HIS CLIMB FROM YOUR OOZY FLOOR, EMMANUEL, BELOW THE SALT.

  THESE ELEMENTS I FOLDED ONCE AGAIN IN MY ARMS, MY TREES WHISPERED:

  SLEEP, CHILD, UNTIL AGAIN YOU COME TO ME, KING OF ALL LIVING THINGS AND LORD OF THE GREENHOUSE, SLEEP.

  MICHAEL:

  NOW WE, MY BROTHERS & I, ARE THE SENSES OF OUR FATHER.

  JM:

  Music. A single pure white beam one knows

  Floods the mirror room, which undergoes

  Instant changes. Dewy garlands deck

  The staircase. Statue, teapot, candlestick,

  Each is prismatically multiplied.

  The Ouija Board drifts upward on a tide

  Of crystal light, ethereal parquet

  Words glide across, impossible to weigh.

  RAPHAEL:

  I AM GOD’S HEARING ON EARTH. I HEAR THE FEET, THE MOVEMENTS OF HIS CREATURES, THE SLITHER, THE STAMPEDE.

  I SENSE THE BUILDERS OVER BUILDERS. SHAKE! SAYS MY FATHER, AND I DO.

  I HEAR THE CRIES OF TREES CUT, TOO MANY. I HEAR THE LESSENING OF A BREED.

  I LISTEN, MAKE SENSE OF IT, AND REPORT TO MY FATHER. MY TWIN?

  EMMANUEL:

  I TOUCHING EARTH, CIRCLING IT, PATTING ITS SHORES,

  RACING WITH NEWS OF THE AVALANCHE, WITHDRAWING WHEN IN DESERT LANDS WE MUST GUARD SPACE FOR MAN’S FUTURE FIELDS,

  I COVER THE WHOLE BALL, REFLECTIVE PALMS UPWARD, FEELING THE ATMOSPHERE.

  I TOUCH, MAKE SENSE OF IT, AND REPORT TO MY FATHER.

  GABRIEL:

  MY TWIN DUTIES, I THE SELECTOR, ARE TASTE & SMELL.

  I CATCH WHIFFS OF DANGER, AND TASTE THE BITTER & THE SWEET.

  I AM THE COOK OF THE SMOKING STEW OF MANKIND: LESS HERE OF THIS, MORE OF THAT.

  I PILE THESE FINDINGS ON A TRAY, MAKE SENSE OF THEM, AND REPORT TO MY FATHER:

  MICHAEL:

  AND HE, O SHY BROTHER, HOW OFTEN: ‘IT IS NOT DONE!’

  JM:

  Our setting glowers, but the irresistible

  Light resumes. As Michael himself does.

  MICHAEL:

  AND I? I READ, DEAR EMMANUEL, YOUR PALMS, AND I SEARCH & I SEE, AND HAVE A VAST SURFACE TO EXPLORE EACH DAY.

  I MAKE A THEORY OF LIGHT IN THE BRIGHTNESS OF EXPLOSION

  AND CHECK TO SEE IF YET THE FEATHERS OF ITS WING CAN SUPPORT THE PIGEON IN MY AIR.

  I LOOK, I READ, MAKE SENSE OF IT, AND REPORT TO MY FATHER.

  JM:

  And God makes…further sense? Sense upon sense?

  MICHAEL:

  YOUNG SCRIBE, OUR FATHER’S UTTERMOST WE DO NOT KNOW

  FOR THIS HE EXERCISES OUTWARD. YES.

  TURNING OUTWARD HIS MULTIPLE ATTENTION FORTIFIED BY ALL OUR INSTRUMENTS,

  OUR FATHER SINGS,

  SINGS ALONE IN THE UNIVERSE

  JM:

  Pauses as if hearkening. No sound.

  MICHAEL:

  LISTEN! FOR YOU 4 WILL HEAR THAT SONG: YOUR LAST LESSON.

  THEN OUR SCHOOL TERM WILL END,

  FOR WILL WE NOT HAVE INNOCENTLY EXPOSED OURSELVES TO IDEAS?

  AND HAVE WE NOT AS OUR FATHER COMMANDS, SURVIVED?

  SO NEXT WE DON A GLAD ARRAY

  OF ALL OUR SENSES TO MEET THE DAY.

  JM:

  Exeunt.

  W. H. AUDEN:

  ENTRE NOUS MY DEAR HE’S NOT IMPROVING:

  NEXT WE DON OUR SENSES IN GLAD ARRAY

  TO MEET HERE AGAIN ON COMMENCEMENT DAY.

  JM:

  That too could stand some work, if I may say so.

  MICHAEL:

  QUARRELING, POETS?

  JM:

  He—I—that is, we—

  MICHAEL:

  MY VERSE NOT METERED? NOT IN RHYME? THEN PRAY

  MAKE SENSE OF IT YOURSELVES ANOTHER DAY!

  JM:

  Exit. And only now sunset’s tall dazzle

  Dims from the frosted glass of our doorway.

  *

  JM:

  No scene. The mirror bitter-black and vast,

  Underdust
ed with remotest light.

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  ANCHORS AT LAST ENFANTS WE 2 OUT HERE

  RISING RISING INTO SUCH A VOID & HOWL!

  OUR WALLS HAVE LONG SINCE DROPPED AWAY O THANK

  GOD U HAVE COME WE THOUGHT WE HAD LOST TOUCH

  DJ:

  May we ask questions?

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  HUSH WE STRAIN TO HEAR

  JM:

  Now, ripple within ripple on black water,

  GOD B:

  O O O O O O O O O O

  JM:

  Pulse of the galactic radio

  Tuned then to mortal wavelength in mid-phrase:

  GOD B:

  IVE BROTHERS HEAR ME BROTHERS SIGNAL ME

  ALONE IN MY NIGHT BROTHERS DO YOU WELL

  I AND MINE HOLD IT BACK BROTHERS I AND

  MINE SURVIVE BROTHERS HEAR ME SIGNAL ME

  DO YOU WELL I AND MINE HOLD IT BACK I

  ALONE IN MY NIGHT BROTHERS I AND MINE

  SURVIVE BROTHERS DO YOU WELL I ALONE

  IN MY NIGHT I HOLD IT BACK I AND MINE

  SURVIVE BROTHERS SIGNAL ME IN MY NIGHT

  I AND MINE HOLD IT BACK AND WE SURVIVE

  JM:

  Pausing to be reread, then pulsing slowly

  GOD B:

  O O O O O O O O O O

  JM:

  The cup glides off the far edge of the Board.