Thoughts, Moods and Ideals: Crimes of Leisure | Page 2

saw a crowded circus once:?The fool was in the middle.?Loud laughed contemptuous Common-sense?At every frisk and riddle.
I see another circus now--?(The world a circus call I),--?But in the centre laughs the sane;?Round sit the sons of folly.
IMITATED FROM THE JAPANESE.
"..........................?I have forgotten to forget."--Japanese Song.
Tr. by R.H. Stoddard.
The morning flies, the evening dies;?The heat of noon, the chills of night,?Are but the dull varieties?Of Phoebus' and of Phoebe's flight--?Are but the dull varieties?Of ruined night and ruined day;?They bring no pleasure to mine eyes,?For I have sent my soul away.
I am the man who cannot love,?Yet once my heart was bright as thine,?The suns that rove, the moons that move,?No longer make its chambers shine;?No more they light the spirit face?That lit my night and made my day;?No maiden feet with mine keep pace?For I have sent my soul away.
O, lost! I think I see thee stand,?By Mary's ivied chapel door,?Where once thou stood'st, and with thy hand?Wring pious pain, as once before.?Impatient, crude philosopher,?I scorned thy gentle wisdom's ray.?All vain thy moistened eyelids were;?I sent my soul and thee away.
A causeless wrath, a mood of pride,?Some tears of thine, and all was done;?On alien plains I travelled wide?And thou wert soon a veiléd nun.?Not long a veiléd nun, but soon?Unveiled of linen and of clay;?But I am March while thou art June,?For I have sent my soul away.
And now when I would love thee well,?There sits alone within my breast?Calm guilt that dare not from its hell?Look up and wish the thing thou art.?I see a dreadful gulf of fright?Beneath my falling life; and gray,?Thy light becomes the ghost of light?Above it as it falls away.
I have a life, a voice, a form,?A skilful hand to lift and turn,?I have emotions like a storm,?A brain to throb, a heart to burn;?But that which Jesus' blood can save,?Which looks toward eternal day,?Is gone before me to the grave.--?It was my soul I sent away.
The past is past, and o'er its woe?It is no comfort to repine;?But I would wage my life to know?Thy feet in heaven keep pace with mine.?I have no hope, I will not weep,?The only wish that wish I may?Is this, that I may find asleep?The soul I thought I sent away.
THE KNIGHT ERRANT.
CLOUD TO WIND?O blow, blow high, for I descend;?Friend must go to meet his friend,?If to earth you tie your feet?You and I will never meet.
WIND?Nay, I haste. A trifle wait;?I exceed my usual gait.?Ha! this hill-top is sublime,?But it makes me pant to climb.
CLOUD?Once again, a little space,?Meet we in this Alpine place,?Before you leap adown the vale?Or I along my pathway sail.
WIND?Then let our little bell of time?Ring onward with a chatty chime--?How we have fled o'er earth and sky,?And what you saw and what saw I.
CLOUD?O, I from off my couch serene,?Woods, meadows, towns and seas have seen;?And in one wood, beside a cave,?A hermit kneeling by a grave:--?The which I felt so touched to see?I wept a shower of sympathy.?And in one mead I saw, methought,?A brave, dark-armored knight, who fought?A shining-dragon in a mist,?That, mixed with flames did roll and twist?Out of the beast's red mouth--a breath?Of choking, blinding, sulphurous death,?On which I shot my thickest rain?And made the conflict fair again.?And from one town I heard the swell?Of a loud, melancholy bell,?That past me rose in flames of sound?And up to Saint Cecilia wound.?And on one sea I saw a ship?Bend out its full-fed sails and slip?So light, so gladly o'er the tide?I could not help but look inside--?Its passengers were groom and bride.?I floated o'er them snowily,?They felt my beauty in the sky,?Their eyes, their souls, their joy were one,?I would not cross their happy sun.?I love this life of calm and use--?No bonds but windy ribbons loose,?No gifts to ask but all to give,?Secure Elysium fugitive.
WIND?Your life, though, drinks not half the wine?Of active gladness that doth mine;?I spread my wings and stretch my arms?Over a dozen hedgéd farms;?I breast steep hills, through pine-groves rush,?Rock birds' nests, yet no fledgling crush,?Tossing the grain-fields everywhere,?The trees, the grass, the school-girl's hair,?Whirling away her laugh the while--?(We breezes love the children's smile);?And then I lag and wander down?Among the roofs and dust of town,?Bearing cool draughts from lake and moor?To fan the faces of the poor,?While sick babes, stifled half to death,?Grow rosy at my country breath.?I lent a shoulder to your ship;?I moaned with that sad hermit's lip;?I helped disperse the dragon's mist;?And some bell's voice, 'twas yours I wist,?I handed up to winds on high?Who wing a loftier flight than I.?But, hark! a rider leaves the vale.
CLOUD?Ah, yes, I catch the gleam of mail.
RANDOLPH?O speak again ye voicéd ghosts!?I heard afar your cheerful boasts.?And, if I doubt not, ye are they?That here have met me many