When thou shalt climb the mountain cliff,

Or see the wide shore from thy skiff,

To thee the horizon shall express

Only emptiness and emptiness;

There is no man of Nature's worth

In the circle of the earth;

And to thine eye the vast skies fall,
Dire and satirical,

On clucking hens, and prating fools,
On thieves, on drudges, and on dolls.
And thou shalt say to the Most High,
"Godhead! all this astronomy,

And fate, and practice, and invention,
Strong art, and beautiful pretension,
This radiant pomp of sun and star,
Throes that were, and worlds that are,
Behold! were in vain and in vain;
It cannot be, I will look again;
Surely now will the curtain rise,
And earth's fit tenant me surprise;
But the curtain doth not rise,

And Nature has miscarried wholly

Into failure, into folly."

'Alas! thine is the bankruptcy,

Blessed Nature so to see.

Come, lay thee in my soothing shade,

And heal the hurts which sin has made.

I will teach the bright parable

Older than time,

Things undeclarable,

Visions sublime.

I see thee in the crowd alone;

I will be thy companion.

Let thy friends be as the dead in doom,

And build to them a final tomb;

Let the starred shade that nightly falls

Still celebrate their funerals,

And the bell of beetle and of bee

Knell their melodious memory.

Behind thee leave thy merchandise,

Thy churches, and thy charities;

And leave thy peacock wit behind;

Enough for thee the primal mind

That flows in streams, that breathes in wind.
Leave all thy pedant lore apart;

God hid the whole world in thy heart.
Love shuns the sage, the child it crowns,
And gives them all who all renounce.
The rain comes when the wind calls;
The river knows the way to the sea;
Without a pilot it runs and falls,
Blessing all lands with its charity;
The sea tosses and foams to find
Its way up to the cloud and wind;
The shadow sits close to the flying ball;
The date fails not on the palm-tree tall;

And thou, go burn thy wormy pages,

Shalt outsee seers, and outwit sages.

Oft didst thou thread the woods in vain

To find what bird had piped the strain;
Seek not, and the little eremite

Flies gayly forth and sings in sight.

'Hearken once more!

I will tell thee the mundane lore.

Older am I than thy numbers wot;
Change I may, but I pass not.
Hitherto all things fast abide,
And anchored in the tempest ride.
Trenchant time behoves to hurry

All to yean and all to bury:

All the forms are fugitive,

But the substances survive.

Ever fresh the broad creation,

A divine improvisation,

From the heart of God proceeds,

A single will, a million deeds.

Once slept the world an egg of stone,

And pulse, and sound, and light was none;

And God said, "Throb!" and there was motion,

And the vast mass became vast ocean.

Onward and on, the eternal Pan,

Who layeth the world's incessant plan,

Halteth never in one shape,

But forever doth escape,

Like wave or flame, into new forms

Of gem, and air, of plants, and worms.

I, that to-day am a pine,

Yesterday was a bundle of grass.

He is free and libertine,

Pouring of his power the wine

To every age, to every race ;
Unto every race and age

He emptieth the beverage;

Unto each, and unto all,

Maker and original.

The world is the ring of his spells,

And the play of his miracles.

As he giveth to all to drink,

Thus or thus they are and think.
He giveth little or giveth much,

To make them several or such.

With one drop sheds form and feature;
With the second a special nature;

The third adds heat's indulgent spark;

The fourth gives light which eats the dark;