That's a new question; still replies the fact, God does: endure his act! Only, for man, how bitter not to grave On his soul's hands' palms one fair good wise thing Just as he grasped it! For himself, death's wave; While time first washes-ah, the sting!— O'er all he'd sink to save. VII. Among the Rocks OH, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth, This autumn morning! How he sets his bones To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet For the ripple to run over in its mirth; Listening the while, where on the heap of stones The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet. That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true; Such is life's trial, as old earth smiles and knows. If you loved only what were worth your love, Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you: Make the low nature better by your throes! Give earth yourself, go up for gain above! VIII. Beside the Drawing Board "AS like as a Hand to another Hand!" Could not have studied to understand "As like as a Hand to another Hand": Found and followed, like me, an hour, Ay, laying the red chalk 'twixt my lips, 'Tis a clay cast, the perfect thing, To fancy's eye, by which we know The beauty in this,-how free, how fine The worm, learned, each in our degree: His art he placed the ring that's there, In token of a marriage rare: Little girl with the poor coarse hand The worth of flesh and blood at last. Because he could not change the hue, "So sayest thou? So said not I, "Of flesh and bone and nerve beneath "If haply I might reproduce One motive of the powers profuse, "Flesh and bone and nerve that make "The poorest coarsest human hand "An object worthy to be scanned "A whole life long for their sole sake. "Shall earth and the cramped moment-space Yield the heavenly crowning grace? "Now the parts and then the whole! "Who art thou, with stinted soul "And stunted body, thus to cry I love, shall that be life's strait dole? "I must live beloved or die!' "This peasant hand that spins the wool "And bakes the bread, why lives it on, "Poor and coarse with beauty gone, "What use survives the beauty?" Fool! Go, little girl with the poor coarse hand! I have my lesson, shall understand. THE IX. On Deck HERE is nothing to remember in me Nothing I ever said with a grace, Nothing I did that you care to see, Nothing I was that deserves a place In your mind, now I leave you, set you free. Such things have been as a mutual flame, How strange it were if you had all me, As I have all you in my heart and brain, You, whose least word brought gloom or glee, Who never lifted the hand in vain— Will hold mine yet, from over the sea! Strange, if a face, when you thought of me, With eyes as dear in their due degree, Till you saw yourself, while you cried, "Tis She!" A passion to stand as your thoughts approve, A rapture to fall where your foot might be. But did one touch of such love for me Why, fade you might to a thing like me, You might turn myself!-should I know or care When I should be dead of joy, James Lee? GOLD HAIR: A Story of Pornic OH, the beautiful girl, too white, Who lived at Pornic, down by the sea, She bore, which I will not write. Too white, for the flower of life is red; Yet earth saw one thing, one how fair! One grace that grew to its full on earth: Smiles might be sparse on her cheek so spare, And her waist want half a girdle's girth, But she had her great gold hair. Hair, such a wonder of flix and floss, Freshness and fragrance-floods of it, too! Gold, did I say? Nay, gold's mere dross: Here, Life smiled, "Think what I meant to do!" And Love sighed, "Fancy my loss!" |