46
POEMS OF ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.
Did not yourself confess that we are changed?
Do not you too?
Adam.Do not I too? Well, well,
Listen! I too when homeward, weary of toil,
Through the dark night I have wandered in rain and wind,
Bewildered, haply scared, I too have lost heart,
And deemed all space with angry power replete,
Angry, almighty-and panic-stricken have cried,
'What have I done?' 'What wilt thou do to me?'
Or with the coward's 'No, I did not, I will not,'
Belied my own soul's self. I too have heard,
And listened, too, to a voice that in my ear
Hissed the temptation to curse God, or worse,
And yet more frequent, curse myself and die;
Until, in fine, I have begun to half believe
Your dream my dream too, and the dream of both
No dream but dread reality; have shared
Your fright: e'en so share thou, sweet life, my hope;
I too, again, when weeds with growth perverse
Have choked my corn and marred a season's toil,
Have deemed I heard in heaven abroad a cry,
'Cursed is the ground for thy sake; thou art cursed.'
But oftener far, and stronger also far,
In consonance with all things out and in,
I hear a voice more searching bid me, 'On!
On! on! it is the folly of the child
To choose his path and straightway think it wrong,
And turn right back and lie on the ground to weep.
Forward! go, conquer! work and live!' Withal
A word comes, half command, half prophecy,
'Forgetting things behind thee, onward press
Unto the mark of your high calling.' Yea,
And voices, too, in woods and flowery fields
Do not you too?
Adam.Do not I too? Well, well,
Listen! I too when homeward, weary of toil,
Through the dark night I have wandered in rain and wind,
Bewildered, haply scared, I too have lost heart,
And deemed all space with angry power replete,
Angry, almighty-and panic-stricken have cried,
'What have I done?' 'What wilt thou do to me?'
Or with the coward's 'No, I did not, I will not,'
Belied my own soul's self. I too have heard,
And listened, too, to a voice that in my ear
Hissed the temptation to curse God, or worse,
And yet more frequent, curse myself and die;
Until, in fine, I have begun to half believe
Your dream my dream too, and the dream of both
No dream but dread reality; have shared
Your fright: e'en so share thou, sweet life, my hope;
I too, again, when weeds with growth perverse
Have choked my corn and marred a season's toil,
Have deemed I heard in heaven abroad a cry,
'Cursed is the ground for thy sake; thou art cursed.'
But oftener far, and stronger also far,
In consonance with all things out and in,
I hear a voice more searching bid me, 'On!
On! on! it is the folly of the child
To choose his path and straightway think it wrong,
And turn right back and lie on the ground to weep.
Forward! go, conquer! work and live!' Withal
A word comes, half command, half prophecy,
'Forgetting things behind thee, onward press
Unto the mark of your high calling.' Yea,
And voices, too, in woods and flowery fields
