Charity

Poem by Alphonse De Lamartine Collection Poetic MeditationsPeriod 19th century

God said one day to his sun:
— You through whom my name shines, you whom my right hand sends
To carry to the universe my splendor and my joy,
So that immensity may praise me at its awakening;
Of these wondrous gifts that your light spreads,
Of these giant steps you take in the heavens,
Of these living rays that every eyelid drinks,
Which of them makes you, tell me, throughout your course,
More like myself and greater in your eyes?

The sun answered, veiling its face:
— It is not to light the immeasurable space,
To make the sands of deserts sparkle,
To melt Lebanon’s crown of ice,
Nor to contemplate myself in the mirror of the seas,
Nor to foam with fire on the waves of the air:
But it is to slip into the cracks of the stone
Of the dungeon where the captive languishes in his tower,
And to dry there tears at the edge of an eyelid
That a single ray of day rejoices in the shadow!

— Good! resumed Jehovah; it is like my love!
What the ray said to the supreme Benefactor,
I, the singing insect, say to myself.
What gives my lyre a thrill of happiness
Is not to quiver at the vain breath of glory,
Nor to cast a name to time for its memory,
Nor to ascend to heaven in a victorious hymn;
But it is to resound, in the night of mystery,
For the echoless soul of a poor solitary
Who has only a distant sound for all noise on earth,
And to slip my voice there through the cracks of the heart.

Alphonse de Lamartine

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