Thoughts, Moods and Ideals: Crimes of Leisure | Page 5

upon the ends of space;?Hast visited each rolling star,--?Before Time measured forth his pace,?Scythe-armed, on a terrestrial war.
HOMER.
(EARLY LINES.)
Time, with his constant touch, has half erased?The memory, but he cannot dim the fame?Of one who best of all has paraphrased?The tale of waters with a tale of flame,?Yet left us but his accents and his name.
Upon that life, the sun of history?Shines not, but Legend, like a moon in mist,?Sheds over it a weird uncertainty,?In which all figures wave and actions twist,?So that a man may read them as he list.
We know not if he trod some Theban street,?And sought compassion on his aged woe,?We know not if on Chian sand his feet?Left footprints once; but only this we know,?How the high ways of fame those footprints show.
Along the border of the restless sea,?The lonely thinker must have loved to roam,?We feel his soul wrapt in its majesty,?And he can speak in words that drip with foam,?As though himself a deep, and depths his home.
Hark! under all and through and over all,?Runs on the cadence of the changeful sea;?Now pleasantly the graceful surges fall,?And now they mutter in an angry key?Ever, throughout their changes, grand and free.
How sternly sang he of Achilles' might,?How sweetly of the sweet Andromache,?How low his lyre when Ajax prays for light;?(Well might he bend that lyre in sympathy?For also great, and also blind was he.)
We almost see the nod of sternbrowed Jove,?And feel Olympus shake; we almost hear?The melodies that Greek youths interwove?In p?an to Apollo, and the clear,?Full voice of Nestor, sounding far and near.
A dignity of sadness filled his heart,?That sadness, born of immortality,?Which they alone who live in art?Feel in its sweetness and its mystery,?Half-filled already with infinity.
Yea, Zeus was wise when he decreed him blind,?And wiser still when he decreed him poor;?For insight grew as outer sight declined,?And want overrode the ills it could not cure,?Else rhapsody had lacked its lay most pure.
OUR UNDERLYING EXISTENCE.
O Fool, that wisdom dost despise,?Thou knowest not, thou canst not guess?Another part of thee is wise?And silent sees thy foolishness.
Yet, fool, how dare I pity thee?Because my heart reveres the sages;?The fool lies also deep in me;?We all are one beneath the ages.
TO ____.
"Creation--God's kind giving--?Continues: did not at one Adam end.?New realms start open to each generation,?Each man receives some gift, some revelation:?I, in this late age living,?The gift, the new-creation of a friend.
TO A DEBUTANTE.
Thou who smilest in thy freshness,?Bright as bud in morning dew;?Keep this thought in thy heart's bower?"Ever turn, like sunward flower,?To the Good, the Fair, the True."
A PROBLEM.
Once, in the University of Life,?Remember_ and _Inquire, my old Professors,?A question hard requested me to solve:?"How can man's love be great and be eternal?If Right forewarns he may be called to leave it:?Whether should Love rule Duty and be all,?Or Duty turn his back on sweet Love crying?"
I paused--then spoke, not having what to answer:?"Ye know, Professors, how to utter problems?And man perplex with his own elements.?Yet I believe the ways ye teach are perfect?And able are you what ye set to solve.--?Admiring you, however, aids me nothing,?I speak because I have not what to answer."?"Ponder," they said, those quiet, sage Professors,
I had seen Love--O Vision, I was near thee?When Death refused that I should speak with thee!?And I had seen her soft eyes' trustful brightness?Wondrous look down into the soul of many?And lead it out and make it of eternity.?Yes, truly, in her look men find true being!--?What ruin if such being must be withered!
I had seen Duty--soldier of his God--?Of Virtue and of Order sentinel--?Grand his firm countenance with obedience.?His troth to Love would everlasting be?Or nothing. What then should commanding orders?Bid him have done with her and all renounce??How can he look on Love and know this shadow?
"I see no answer," answered I dejected,?"Except that either Love must be abased,?Or he resign perfection in his calling."
"Nay," said they, but by strange, clear apparatus?(Whereof within that College there is much)?Gave illustration--paraphrased as follows:?"Thou hast not reckoned for eternity.?The True fears not Forever: fear thou not.?Duty and Love are noble man and wife?(If otherwise thou see them 'tis illusion),?'Tis she sends Duty forth with dear embrace?And proudest of his battle through her tears?Encourages: 'Regard me not but strike!'?And 'If thou must depart alas, depart!?Follow thy noblest, I am ever true!'?He strikes and presses, sending back his heart?As forward moves his foot on the arena;?Or marches bravely far and far, until?Hope of return as mortal disappears:?This should true soul endure, though everlasting--?But then, besides, we know that One has mercy."
TO A FELLOW-STUDENT OF KANT.
The sweet star of the Bethlehem night?Beauteous guides and true,?And still, to me and you?With only local, legendary light.
For us who hither look with eyes afar?From constellations of philosophy,?All light is from the Cradle; the true star,?Serene o'er distance,