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Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
 II.

To whisper in the rose’s ear

That all her beauty is no more;

III.

And bid her own the faith how vain,

Which Spring to her so lately swore.

IV.

A queen deposed, she quits her state;

The nightingales her fall deplore:

V.

The hundred-voicèd bird may woo

The thousand-leavèd flower no more.

VI.

The jasmine sinks its head in shame,

The sharp east wind its tresses shore;

VII.

And robbed in passing cruelly

The tulip of the crown it wore.

VIII.

The lil ’s s o d is b oken no

The lily’s sword is broken now,
That was so bright and keen before;

IX.

And not a blast can blow, but strews

With leaf of gold the earth’s dank floor.

X.

The piping winds sing Nature’s dirge

As through the forest bleak they roar,

XI.

Whose leafy screen, like locks of eld,

Each day shows scantier than before.

XII.

Thou fadest as a flower, O man!

Of food for musing here is store.

XIII.

O man! thou fallest as a leaf:

Pace thoughtfully earth’s leaf-strewn floor;

XIV.

Welcome the sadness of the time,

And lay to heart this natural lore.
MOSES AND JETHRO.
When Moses once on Horeb’s rocky steep,
A banished man, was keeping Jethro’s sheep,
What time his flocks along the hills and dells
Made music with their bleatings and their bells,
He by the thoughts that stirred within him, drawn
Deep in the mountain, heard at early dawn
One who in prayer did all his soul outpour,
With deep heart-earnestness, but nothing more.
For strange his words were, savage and uncouth,
And little did he know in very sooth
Of that great Lord, to whom his vows were made.
The other for a moment listening staid,
Until, his patience altogether spent—
“Good friend, for whom are these same noises meant?
For him, who dwells on high? this babbling vain,
Which vexes even a man’s ear with pain?
Oh, stop thy mouth—thou dost but heap up sin,
Such prayer as this can no acceptance win,
But were enough to make God’s blessings cease.”
Rebuked, the simple herdsman held his peace,
And only crying—“Thou hast rent my heart,”
He fled into the desert far apart:
While with himself, and with his zeal content,
His steps the Son of Amram homeward bent,
And ever to himself applauses lent—
Much wondering that he did not find the same
From his adopted sire, but rather blame,
Who having heard, replied—

“Was this well done?

What wouldst thou have to answer, O my son,
If God should say in anger unto thee—
‘Why hast thou driven my worshipper from me,
Why hast thou robbed me of my dues of prayer?
Well pleasing offering in my sight they were,
A d i i i if t i thi ’
And music in mine ears, if not in thine’—
He doth its bounds to every soul assign,
Its voice, its language—using which to tell
His praise, he counts that it doth praise him well;
And when there is a knocking at heaven’s gate,
And at its threshold many suppliants wait,
Then simple Love will often enter in,
While haughty Science may no entrance win.
Thus while his words were rougher husks than thine,
They yet might keep a kernel more divine,—
Rude vessel guarding a more precious wine.

“All prayer is childlike—falls as short of Him

The wisdom of the wisest Seraphim,
As the child’s small conceit of heavenly things;
A line to sound his depths no creature brings.
Before the Infinite, the One, the All,
Must every difference disappear and fall,
There is no wise nor simple, great nor small.
For him the little clod of common earth
Has to the diamond no inferior worth;
Nor doth the Ocean, world-encompassing,
Unto his thought more sense of vastness bring
Than tiny dew-drop—atoms in his eye
A sun, and a sun-mote, dance equally:
Not that the great (here understand aright)
Is worthless as the little in his sight,
Rather the little precious as the great,
And, pondered in his scales, of equal weight:
So that herein lies comfort—not despair,
As though we were too little for his care.

“God is so great, there can be nothing small

To him—so loving he embraces all,—
So wise, the wisdom and simplicity
Of man for him must on a level be:
But while all this more prompt to feel the wrong
But while all this, more prompt to feel the wrong,
And to resent it with displeasure strong,
When from him there is rudely, proudly turned
The meanest soul that loved him, and that yearned
After his grace—oh, haste then and begone,
Rebuild the altar thou hast overthrown;
Replace the offering which on that did stand,
Till rudely scattered by thy hasty hand—
Removing, if thou canst, what made it rise
A faulty and imperfect sacrifice.
And henceforth, in this gloomy world and dark,
Prize every taper yielding faintest spark,
And if perchance it burn not clear and bright,
Snuff, if thou canst, but do not quench it quite.”
 PROVERBS
TURKISH AND PERSIAN.

I.
All skirts extended of thy mantle hold,
When angel hands from heav’n are scattering gold.

II.

Sects seventy-two, they say, the world infest,

And each and all lie hidden in thy breast.

III.

One staff of Moses, slight as it appears,

Aye breaks in shivers Pharaoh’s thousand spears.

IV.

Forget not Death, O man! for thou mayst be

Of one thing certain,—he forgets not thee.

V.

Speaks one of good which falls not to thy lot,

He also speaks of ill which thou hast not.

VI.

Boast not thy service rendered to the King,

’Tis grace enough he lets thee service bring.

VII.

Lies once thy cart in quagmire overthrown,

Thy path to thee by thousands will be shown.
 yp y

VIII.

Oh square thyself for use—a stone that may

Fit in the wall, is left not in the way.

IX.

Never the game has happy issue won,

Which with the cotton has the fire begun.

X.

The world’s great wheel in silence circles round,

An housewife’s spindle with unceasing sound.

XI.

Who doth the raven for a guide invite,

Must marvel not on carcases to light.

XII.

The king but with one apple maketh free,

And straight his servants have cut down the tree.

XIII.

Two friends will in a needle’s eye repose,

But the whole world is narrow for two foes.

XIV.
Rejoice not when thine enemy doth die,
Thou hast not won immortal life thereby.

XV.

Be bold to bring forth fruit—though stick and stone

At the fruit-bearing trees are flung alone.

XVI.

All things that live from God their sustenance wait,

And sun and moon are beggars at his gate.

XVII.

While in thy lips thy words thou dost confine,

Thou art their lord—once uttered, they are thine.

XVIII.

Boldly thy bread upon the waters throw,

And if the fishes do not, God will know.

XIX.

What will not time and toil—? through these a worm

Will into silk a mulberry leaf transform.

XX.

When what thou willest has befall’n not, still

This help remains, what has befall’n to will.
 p ,

XXI.

The lily with ten tongues can hold its peace;

Wilt thou with one from babbling never cease?

XXII.

How shall the praise of silence best be told?

To speak is silver, to hold peace is gold.

XXIII.

Thy word unspoken thou canst any day

Speak, but thy spoken ne’er again unsay.

XXIV.

O babbler, couldst thou but the cause divine

Why one tongue only, but two ears are thine!

XXV.

What mystic roses in thy breast will blow,

If on the wind their leaves thou straightway strow!
The good that one man flings aside
That in his discontent and pride
He treads on, and rejects no less.
Out of his count of happiness,
Another wiser, even from this
Would build an edifice of bliss,
For whose fair shelter he would pay
Glad offerings of praise alway.

This truth a Sage had need to learn—

This we may by his aid discern
Who once, reduced to last distress,
Was culling a few herbs to dress,
With these his hunger to allay;
And flinging, as he went his way,
The coarse and outer leaves aside,
With rising discontent he cried,
“I marvel if at all there be
A wretch so destitute as me
The wide world over.”—This he said,
And turning (not by chance) his head,
Behind him saw another sage,
Whom a like office did engage,
Who followed with weak steps behind,
Seeking, like him, a meal to find,
But who, with anxious quest and pain,
To gather up the leaves was fain,
By him rejected with disdain.

Nor other lesson he would teach,

The Poet in his Persian speech,
Who tells how through the desert he
Was toiling once, how painfully!
While his unsandalled naked feet
Were scorched and blistered by the heat
Of fiery sands and harsh and hard
Of fiery sands—and harsh and hard
He did his destiny regard;
And evil thoughts did in him stir,
That he, a faithful worshipper,
A pilgrim to God’s holy fane,
Should such necessities sustain.
Nor did a better mood succeed,
With glad endurance of his need,
Nor saw he what of sin was pent
In murmuring heart and malcontent,
Till entering a low chapel, there
One prostrate on his face in prayer
He marked, and unto him espied
Not shoes alone, but feet denied.
LOVE.

I.
Love is it, Love divine, that hath an impulse lent
To man, and beast, and worm, and every element.

II.

All riddles Love can solve, all mysteries unfold;

Ask what thou wilt, and Love the answer will present.

III.

I asked the circling heavens why they so swiftly moved:

Round Love’s eternal throne they ever wheeling went.

IV.

I asked the waves what made their murmurs never cease:

Shall we in Love’s great hymn with silence be content?

V.

I asked the bickering fire when it would climb no more:

When with the fire above in Love’s communion blent.

VI.

Night asked I why she hung the world with darkness round:
To consecrate the world for Love a bridal tent.

VII.

I asked the Westwind why it breathed so soft and warm:

All roses to unfold for Love the Westwind meant.
 VIII.

I sought for some escape from the labyrinth of Love;

And found my bliss was there to be for ever pent.

IX.

O soul, that until now hast sullenly refused

Thy portion in Love’s joy, O sullen heart, relent;

X.

Oh! see Love’s mighty dance, oh! hear its choral hymn;
Stand up—in dance and hymn to take thy part consent.
THE FALCON.

I.
High didst thou once in honour stand,
The falcon on a Prince’s hand:

II.

Thine eye, unhooded and unsealed,

All depths of being pierced and scanned:

III.

All worlds of space, from end to end,

Thy never-wearied pinion spanned.

IV.

O falcon of the spiritual heaven—

Entangled in an earthly band,

V.

While all too eagerly thy prey

Pursuing in a lower land—

VI.

In hope abide;—thy Monarch yet

For thy release shall give command,

VII.

And bid thee to resume again

Thy place upon thy Monarch’s hand.
yp p y
LIFE THROUGH DEATH.

I.
A pagan King tormented fiercely all
Who would not on his senseless idols call,
Nor worship them:—and him were brought before,
A mother and her child, with many more.
The child, fast bound, was flung into the flame,
Her faith the mother did in fear disclaim:
But when she cried—“O sweetest! live as I,”
He answered—“Mother dear, I do not die;
Come, mother, bliss of heaven is here my gain,
Although I seem to you in fiery pain.
This fire serves only for your eyes to cheat,
Like Jesus’ breath of balm ’tis cool and sweet.
Come—learn what riches with our God are stored,
And how he feeds me at the angelic board.
Come, prove this fire—like water-floods it cools,
While your world’s water burns like sulphur pools.
Come—Abraham’s secret, when he found alone
Sweet roses in the furnace, here is known.
Into a world of death thou barest me,
O mother, death, not life, I owed to thee.
Fair world I deemed it once of glorious pride,
Till in this furnace I was deified;
But now I know it for a dungeon-tomb,
Since God has brought me into larger room.
Oh! now at length I live—from my pure heaven
Each cloud, that stained it once, away is driven:
Come, mother, come, and with thee many bring;
Cry, ‘Here is spread the banquet of the King;’
Come, all ye faithful—come, and dare to prove
The bitter-sweet, the pain and bliss of love.”

So cried the child unto that crowd of men;

All hearts with fiery longings kindled then;
Towàrd the pile they headlong rushing came,
And soon their souls fed sweetly on the flame.
 II.

A dew-drop falling on the wild sea wave,

Exclaimed in fear—“I perish in this grave;”
But in a shell received, that drop of dew
Unto a pearl of marvellous beauty grew;
And, happy now, the grace did magnify
Which thrust it forth—as it had feared, to die;—
Until again, “I perish quite,” it said,
Torn by rude diver from its ocean bed:
O unbelieving!—so it came to gleam
Chief jewel in a Monarch’s diadem.

III.

The seed must die, before the corn appears

Out of the ground, in blade and fruitful ears.
Low must those ears by sickle’s edge be lain,
Ere thou canst treasure up the golden grain.
The grain is crushed, before the bread is made,
And the bread broke, ere life to man conveyed.
Oh! be content to die, to be laid low,
And to be crushed, and to be broken so;
If thou upon God’s table may’st be bread,
Life-giving food for souls an-hungerèd.
THE WORLD.
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