A RHAPSODY OF LIFE'S PROGRESS.
279
And our blood runs amazed 'neath the calm hyaline,—
The earth cleaves to the foot, the sun burns to the brain,—
What is this exultation, and what this despair—
The strong pleasure is smiting the nerves into pain,
And we drop from the Fair, as we climb to the Fair,
And we lie in a trance at its feet;
And the breath of an angel cold-piercing the air
Breathes fresh on our faces in swoon;
And we think him so near, he is this side the sun!
And we wake to.a whisper self-murmured and fond,
O Life, O Beyond,
Thou art strange, thou art sweet!
The earth cleaves to the foot, the sun burns to the brain,—
What is this exultation, and what this despair—
The strong pleasure is smiting the nerves into pain,
And we drop from the Fair, as we climb to the Fair,
And we lie in a trance at its feet;
And the breath of an angel cold-piercing the air
Breathes fresh on our faces in swoon;
And we think him so near, he is this side the sun!
And we wake to.a whisper self-murmured and fond,
O Life, O Beyond,
Thou art strange, thou art sweet!
And the winds and the waters in pastoral measures
Go winding around us, with roll upon roll,
Till the soul lies within in a circle of pleasures,
Which hideth the soul!
And we run with the stag, and we leap with the horse,
And we swim with the fish through the broad watercourse,
And we strike with the falcon, and hunt with the hound,
And the joy which is in us flies out with a wound;
And we shout so aloud, "We exult, we rejoice,"
That we lose the low moan of our brothers around,—
And we shout so adeep down creation's profound,
We are deaf to God's voice—
And we bind the rose-garland on forehead and ears,
Yet we are not ashamed;
And the de w of the roses that runneth unblamed
Down our cheeks, is not taken for tears.
Help us, God! trust us, man! love us, woman!" I hold
Thy small head in my hands,—with its grapelets of gold
Growing bright through my fingers,—like altar for oath,
'Neath the vast golden spaces like witnessing faces
That watch the eternity strong in the troth—
I love thee, I leave thee,—
Live for thee, die for thee!
I prove thee, deceive thee,—
Undo evermore thee!
Go winding around us, with roll upon roll,
Till the soul lies within in a circle of pleasures,
Which hideth the soul!
And we run with the stag, and we leap with the horse,
And we swim with the fish through the broad watercourse,
And we strike with the falcon, and hunt with the hound,
And the joy which is in us flies out with a wound;
And we shout so aloud, "We exult, we rejoice,"
That we lose the low moan of our brothers around,—
And we shout so adeep down creation's profound,
We are deaf to God's voice—
And we bind the rose-garland on forehead and ears,
Yet we are not ashamed;
And the de w of the roses that runneth unblamed
Down our cheeks, is not taken for tears.
Help us, God! trust us, man! love us, woman!" I hold
Thy small head in my hands,—with its grapelets of gold
Growing bright through my fingers,—like altar for oath,
'Neath the vast golden spaces like witnessing faces
That watch the eternity strong in the troth—
I love thee, I leave thee,—
Live for thee, die for thee!
I prove thee, deceive thee,—
Undo evermore thee!
