Little Whale Song
Ted Hughes
(for Charles Causley)
What do they think of themselves
With their global brains -
The tide-power voltage illumination
Of those brains? Their x-ray all-dimension
Grasp of this world’s structures, their brains budded
Clone replicas of the electron world
Lit and re-imagining the world
Perfectly tuned receivers and perceivers,
Each one a whole tremulous world
Feeling through the world? What
Do they make of each other?
"We are beautiful. We stir
Our self-colour in the pot of colours
Which is the world. At each
Tail-stroke we deepen
Our being into the world’s lit substance,
And our joy into the world’s
Spinning bliss, and our peace
Into the world’s floating, plumed peace."
Their body-tons, echo-chambered,
Amplify the whisper
Of currents and airs, of sea-peoples
And planetary manoeuvres,
Of seasons, of shores, and of their own
Moon-lifted incantation, as they dance
Through the original Earth-drama
In which they perform, as from the beginning.
The Royal House.
The loftiest, spermiest
Passions, the most exquisite pleasures,
The noblest characters, the most god-like
Oceanic presence and poise --
The most terrible fall.
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