The sullen answer slid betwixt : "Not that the grounds of hope were fixed, The elements were kindlier mixed." I said, "I toil beneath the curse, "And that, in seeking to undo One riddle, and to find the true, I knit a hundred others new: "Or that this anguish fleeting hence, "For I go, weak from suffering here; Naked I go, and void of cheer: What is it that I may not fear?" 1 "Consider well," the voice replied, "His face, that two hours since hath died; Wilt thou find passion, pain or pride? "Will he obey when one commands? Or answer should one press his hands? He answers not, nor understands. "His palms are folded on his breast: There is no other thing expressed But long disquiet merged in rest. "His lips are very mild and meek: "His little daughter, whose sweet face He kissed, taking his last embrace, Becomes dishonor to her race "His sons grow up that bear his name, Some grow to honor, some to shame, But he is chill to praise or blame. "He will not hear the north-wind rave, Nor, moaning, household shelter crave From winter rains that beat his grave. 66 'High up the vapors fold and swim: About him broods the twilight dim: The place he knew forgetteth him.” "If all be dark, vague voice," I said, "These things are wrapped in doubt and dread, Nor canst thou show the dead are dead. "The sap dries up: the plant declines. A deeper tale my heart divines. Know I not Death? the outward signs? "I found him when my years were few; A shadow on the graves I knew, And darkness in the village yew. "From grave to grave the shadow crept ⚫ In her still place the morning wept : Touched by his feet the daisy slept. "The simple senses crowned his head : "Why, if man rot in dreamless ease, Should that plain fact, as taught by these, Not make him sure that he shall cease? "Who forged that other influence, That heat of inward evidence, By which he doubts against the sense? "He owns the fatal gift of eyes, That read his spirit blindly wise, Not simple as a thing that dies. "Here sits he shaping wings to fly; "That type of Perfect in his mind "He seems to hear a Heavenly Friend, "The end and the beginning vex His reason many things perplex, With motions, checks, and counter-checks. "He knows a baseness in his blood At such strange war with something good, He may not do the thing he would. "Heaven opens inward, chasms yawn. "Ah! sure within him and without, Could his dark wisdom find it out, There must be answer to his doubt. "But thou canst answer not again. With thine own weapon art thou slain, "The doubt would rest, I dare not solve. As when a billow, blown against, "Where wert thou when thy father played "A merry boy they called him then. "Before the little ducts began "Who took a wife, who reared his race, Whose wrinkles gathered on his face, Whose troubles number with his days: |