Charles Sorley
These things are silent. Though it may be told
Of luminous deeds that lighten land and sea,
Strong sounding actions with broad minstrelsy
Of praise, strange hazards and adventures bold,
We hold to the old things that grow not old:
Blind, patient, hungry, hopeless (without fee
Of all our hunger and unhope are we),
To the first ultimate instinct, to God we hold.
They flicker, glitter, flicker. But we bide,
We, the blind weavers of an intense fate,
Asking but this–that we may be denied:
Desiring only desire insatiate,
Unheard, unnamed, unnoticed, crucified
To our unutterable faith, we wait.
© by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
You may find this and other poems here.
Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem presents a stark contrast between the fleeting, celebrated actions of the world and the quiet, enduring devotion of those who remain steadfast in their unspoken faith. The opening lines establish a tension between the bright, celebrated deeds that fill the land and sea with acclaim and the “old things that grow not old,” which stand in quiet resilience. The “old things” represent enduring values, traditions, or instincts that are untouched by time, while the luminous deeds of praise are temporary and surface-level.
The poem then turns inward, focusing on the quiet, patient, and often unseen struggle of the “blind weavers” who embody a quiet, uncelebrated faith. The choice of the word “blind” here could symbolize a lack of external recognition or understanding, but also a deeper, perhaps spiritual, connection that requires no outward validation. These figures are not concerned with fame, accolades, or the fleeting excitement of life’s adventures. Instead, they focus on a deeper, more profound purpose—an “ultimate instinct” tied to God.
The middle section of the poem suggests a deep paradox: while the world celebrates achievement and recognition, the “blind weavers” are defined by their patience, their hunger, and their unfulfilled desires. They are not seeking rewards or recognition. Instead, they long for the purity of their faith, which, in its rawest form, can only be described as “unutterable” and “insatiate.” Their desires are not material but spiritual, unquenchable, and beyond words. The act of waiting becomes an essential part of their existence, as they endure the struggle without complaint or expectation, embodying an intense form of faith and devotion.
The poem’s closing lines capture this tension most poignantly, as the “weavers” remain crucified to their faith, their desires unacknowledged and unspoken, waiting in the silence of their belief. There’s a feeling of quiet martyrdom here—suffering without recognition or reward, and yet holding on to something far more profound than worldly accolades.
Overall, the poem contrasts the short-lived, celebrated actions of the world with the enduring, uncelebrated faith of those who seek a deeper connection. The “blind weavers” represent a kind of quiet strength, relying not on external recognition but on an unwavering, insatiable belief that remains unseen by the world, yet is central to their being. This is a poem about spiritual devotion that requires no audience but the self, a meditation on the contrast between worldly fame and the quiet persistence of an inner, perhaps divine, calling.