LIV. THE wish, that of the living whole No life may fail beyond the grave; Derives it not from what we have The likest God within the soul? Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life; That I, considering everywhere Her secret meaning in her deeds, And finding that of fifty seeds She often brings but one to bear ; I falter where I firmly trod, And falling with my weight of cares That slope thro' darkness up to God; LV. 6 So careful of the type?' but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone I care for nothing, all shall go. Thou makest thine appeal to me: I bring to life, I bring to death: The spirit does but mean the breath : I know no more.' Man, her last work, who seem'd so fair, Who roll'd the psalm to wintry skies, Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer, Who trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law Tho' Nature, red in tooth and claw With ravine, shriek'd against his creed Who loved, who suffer'd countless ills, Who battled for the True, the Just, Be blown about the desert dust, Or seal'd within the iron hills? No more? A monster then, a dream, O life as futile, then, as frail ! O for thy voice to soothe and bless! What hope of answer, or redress? Behind the veil, behind the veil. G LVI. PEACE, come away : the song of woe Is after all an earthly song: Peace, come away; we do him wrong To sing so wildly; let us go. Come, let us go, your cheeks are pale, Yet in these ears till hearing dies, One set slow bell will seem to toll The passing of the sweetest soul That ever looked with human eyes. I hear it now, and o'er and o'er, Eternal greetings to the dead; 'Adieu, adieu' for evermore! |