Rejoice we are allied To that which doth provide 65 And not partake, effect and not receive! Possessions of the brute,-gain most, as we did best! Whose spirit works lest arms and legs Fearless and unperplexed, Not once beat, "Praise be thine! I see the whole design, 55 The deed off, calls the glory from the gray: I, who saw power, see now Love perfect too; A whisper from the west "This rage was right i' the main, That acquiescence vain: 100 O'er which, from level stand, The low world laid its hand, The Future I may face now I have proved Found straightway to its mind, could the Past." For more is not reserved To man, with soul just nerved value in a trice: To act to-morrow what he learns today: Here, work enough to watch The Master work, and catch Hints of the proper craft, tricks of the tool's true play. Enough now, if the Right And Good and Infinite 115 Ay, note that Potter's wheel, That metaphor! and feel 150 Be named here, as thou callest thy hand Why time spins fast, why passive lies our thine own, Was I, the world arraigned, Were they, my soul disdained, 125 clay, Right? Let age speak the truth and give Time's wheel runs back or stops: Potter They this thing, and I that: whom shall Try thee and turn thee forth, sufficiently At the midnight in the silence of the sleeptime, When you set your fancies free, I I thought once how Theocritus had sung Of the sweet years, the dear and wished for years, Who each one in a gracious hand appears To bear a gift for mortals, old or young: And, as I mused it in his antique tongue, 5 I saw in gradual vision through my tears, The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years, Those of my own life, who by turns had flung A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware, Will they pass to where by death, fools So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move think, imprisoned Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair; II And a voice said in mastery while I strove, "Guess now who holds thee?"-"Death!" I said. But there, The silver answer rang: "Not Death, but Love." VII The face of all the world is changed, I think, Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and Ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's 5 Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. |