Chants in a Million

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God is the father. God is his son.

God is the victory that all evil shuns.
God of the mighty. God of the weak.
God is the mystery that all searchers seek.
God is the father. God is his son.
God has the power of a million plus suns.
God is the spirit glue in the gum.
God is the single. God is the sum.
God is the father. God is his son.
God is the artist whose tall tale is spun.
God is transcendence, the ghost and the spook.
God is the history that all churches spruik.

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God is the father. God is his son.

And daughters are mothers to whores as to nuns.
God makes the judgement to fight the good fight:
the devils and demons that people the night.

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God is the father. God is his son.

Above us he towers while we crawl in dung.
And we shall be brothers whose bonds will unite,
on the pathway to heaven, sunlit and bright.

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God is the father. God is his son.

Before him we cower. Naked, undone.
The sins we would rather keep from his sight,
condemn us as cowards unworthy in flight.
God is the father. God is his son.
God defies numbers three times in one.
God will empower the pest and the blight,
to flag the dark forces that give no respite.
God is the father. God is his son.
The gifts that he showers on the faithful among
the boon of sweet laughter as his sattelite,
smile down on our errors from high holy height.
God is the question, the quip and the pun.
God is the quotient divided by none.
God is in genius. God is in dumb.
God is the single. God is the sum.
God is the father. God is his son.
God is the author where goodness is sprung.
God shall endower his word and his light,
to relieve the dull burden of man's mortal plight.
God is the father. God is his son.
God is the air we breathe in our lungs.

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God is the chasm we care not to plumb.

God is the single. God is the sum.
God is the father. God is his son.
At hand is the hour; whose will must be done.
And we, as his kindling, the spark to ignite
incendary purpose to rapture's delight.
God is the father. God is his son.
God is hard nature whose conquest is won.
God is creation. May his kingdom come?
God is the single. God is the sum.

Ballad for Gloom

For God, our God is a gallant foe
That playeth behind the veil.
I have loved my God as a child at heart
That seeketh deep bosoms for rest,
I have loved my God as a maid to man
But lo, this thing is best:
To love your God as a gallant foe that plays behind the veil;
To meet your God as the night winds meet beyond Arcturus'
pale.
I have played with God for a woman,
I have staked with my God for truth,
I have lost to my God as a man, clear-eyed
His dice be not of ruth.
For I am made as a naked blade,
But hear ye this thing in sooth:
Who loseth to God as man to man
Shall win at the turn of the game.
I have drawn my blade where the lightnings meet
But the ending is the same:
Who loseth to God as the sword blades lose
Shall win at the end of the game.
For God, our God is a gallant foe that playeth behind the veil.
Whom God deigns not to overthrow hath need of triple mail.

Ezra Pound
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Read poems about / on: god, woman, truth, child, lost,

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Comments about this poem (Ballad for Gloom by Ezra Pound )

Click here to write your comments about this poem (Ballad for Gloom by Ezra
Pound )

Gary Witt (3/7/2007 11:28:00 PM)

What attracts me to this poem is not just its use of language, or its lyricism, or
its meter, but also the literal meaning presented. I find the philosophy of the
poet/narrator intriguing.
It was first published in 1908 (A Lume Spento) when Pound was about 23 years
old; before he went to London, before he became associated with Yeats, and
before he presented his three principles of Imagism: direct treatment of the
thing, no superfluous word, and musical meter rather than mere cadence. It
comes at a time when some critics see Pound and his work as being nostalgic for
an earlier, better era. Perhaps even a mediaeval era. This certainly shows up in
Pounds use of archaic language here.
Indeed the notion of a gallant foe is as archaic as the language Pound is using
here. It seems to me the word gallant here encompasses more than just
courage, it also includes courtly manner, chivalry, and honor. God is a foe that
can be trusted to treat the vanquished justly and with honor. That trust, rooted
in his gallantry, may serve as the foundation for faith. He may grant our prayers
because he is gallant. He may deny them because he is our foe. Moreover, the
notion of God as foe has the useful purpose of explaining misfortune and
calamity. These are instances in which God the foe has vanquished someone. It
may even go so far as to resolve the question of evil, i.e., why would a good and
righteous God tolerate evil? Answer: there is no evil; there is only God as foe.
In this context, I think the line For I am made as the naked blade carries with
it a great deal of significance. People are forged, just as steel is forged; a
difficult process involving intense heat, dramatic changes in temperature from
hot to cold and back again, and a great deal of hammering. The process
resembles a fight between the smith and the metal. The word wrought comes
to mind. Worked.
Who loseth to God as the sword blades lose /Shall win at the end of the game.
The one who loses becomes a blade. In addition, the person who is not forged in
this manner (i.e., whom God deigns not to overthrow) is in for a real fight later
on; one that will require triple mail for protection.
We are also called upon To loveGod as a gallant foe Well, how does one
love a foe? Perhaps this is a reference to Jesus admonition to love thy enemy
as thyself. But I think an alternative reading would put this in the same context
as the other uses of archaic language in the poem. A love for a gallant foe seems
to imply several things: respect, honor, and a kind of attachment certainly. But
also I think it entails a duty to fight, or an obligation not necessarily to accept
Gods will but certainly to accept his chivalric code (which is different from the
Ten Commandments, and different from Jesus admonition to love thy enemy or
thy neighbor as thyself) . The chivalrous knight did not shirk the good fight out

of chivalry or politeness. Pound seems to be saying first that we need to fight in

order to grow, and second that it doesnt matter how much we struggle against
God, his will prevails (a notion which certainly makes sense) . More importantly,
we can rely upon his gallantry (or grace) for whatever forgiveness may be
necessary when the fight is over. The steel doesnt cooperate with the smith so
much as it is literally bent by the smiths will. The metal has specific molecular
properties that make it both malleable and resistant. And as he polishes the
finished blade, the smith doesnt curse the metal for having those properties. He
doesnt throw it away for being difficult. Indeed, what forgiveness is necessary
between the smith and the finished blade?
Perhaps we are not here in this vale of tears so much to test our mettle (even on
the basis of pass-fail) , as to forge our metal.
BTW, I think the veil that God is playing behind is our own ignorance.