Renascence and Other Poems | Page 7

that
old grace
I brought! I have been heated in thy fires,
Bent by thy
hands, fashioned to thy desires,
Thy mark is on me! I am not the
same
Nor ever more shall be, as when I came.
Ashes am I of all that
once I seemed.
In me all's sunk that leapt, and all that dreamed
Is
wakeful for alarm, -- oh, shame to thee,
For the ill change that thou
hast wrought in me,
Who laugh no more nor lift my throat to sing!

Ah, Life, I would have been a pleasant thing
To have about the house
when I was grown
If thou hadst left my little joys alone!
I asked of
thee no favor save this one:
That thou wouldst leave me playing in
the sun!
And this thou didst deny, calling my name
Insistently, until
I rose and came.
I saw the sun no more. -- It were not well
So long
on these unpleasant thoughts to dwell,
Need I arise to-morrow and
renew
Again my hated tasks, but I am through
With all things save
my thoughts and this one night,
So that in truth I seem already quite

Free and remote from thee, -- I feel no haste

And no reluctance to
depart; I taste
Merely, with thoughtful mien, an unknown draught,

That in a little while I shall have quaffed."
Thus I to Life, and ceased, and slightly smiled,
Looking at nothing;

and my thin dreams filed
Before me one by one till once again
I set
new words unto an old refrain:
"Treasures thou hast that never have been mine!
Warm lights in many
a secret chamber shine
Of thy gaunt house, and gusts of song have
blown
Like blossoms out to me that sat alone!
And I have waited
well for thee to show
If any share were mine, -- and now I go!

Nothing I leave, and if I naught attain
I shall but come into mine own
again!"
Thus I to Life, and ceased, and spake no more,
But turning,
straightway, sought a certain door
In the rear wall. Heavy it was, and
low
And dark, -- a way by which none e'er would go
That other exit
had, and never knock
Was heard thereat, -- bearing a curious lock

Some chance had shown me fashioned faultily,
Whereof Life held
content the useless key,
And great coarse hinges, thick and rough
with rust,
Whose sudden voice across a silence must,
I knew, be
harsh and horrible to hear, --
A strange door, ugly like a dwarf. -- So
near
I came I felt upon my feet the chill
Of acid wind creeping
across the sill.
So stood longtime, till over me at last
Came
weariness, and all things other passed
To make it room; the still night
drifted deep
Like snow about me, and I longed for sleep.
But, suddenly, marking the morning hour,
Bayed the deep-throated
bell within the tower!
Startled, I raised my head, -- and with a shout

Laid hold upon the latch, -- and was without.

Ah, long-forgotten, well-remembered road,
Leading me back unto my
old abode,
My father's house! There in the night I came,
And found
them feasting, and all things the same
As they had been before. A
splendour hung
Upon the walls, and such sweet songs were sung
As,
echoing out of very long ago,
Had called me from the house of Life, I
know.

So fair their raiment shone I looked in shame
On the
unlovely garb in which I came;
Then straightway at my hesitancy

mocked:
"It is my father's house!" I said and knocked;
And the door
opened. To the shining crowd
Tattered and dark I entered, like a
cloud,
Seeing no face but his; to him I crept,
And "Father!" I cried,
and clasped his knees, and wept.
Ah, days of joy that followed! All
alone
I wandered through the house. My own, my own,
My own to
touch, my own to taste and smell,
All I had lacked so long and loved
so well!
None shook me out of sleep, nor hushed my song,
Nor
called me in from the sunlight all day long.
I know not when the wonder came to me
Of what my father's
business might be,
And whither fared and on what errands bent
The
tall and gracious messengers he sent.
Yet one day with no song from
dawn till night
Wondering, I sat, and watched them out of sight.

And the next day I called; and on the third
Asked them if I might go,
-- but no one heard.
Then, sick with longing, I arose at last
And
went unto my father, -- in that vast
Chamber wherein he for so many
years
Has sat, surrounded by his charts and spheres.
"Father," I said,
"Father, I cannot play
The harp that thou didst give me, and all day

I sit in idleness, while to and fro
About me thy serene, grave servants
go;
And I am weary of my lonely ease.
Better a perilous journey
overseas
Away from thee, than this, the life I lead,
To sit all day in
the sunshine like a weed
That grows to naught, -- I love thee more
than they
Who serve thee most; yet serve thee in no way.
Father, I
beg of thee a little task
To dignify my days, -- 'tis