Recover all thy sigh-blown age
On double pleasures. Leave thy cold dispute
Of what is fit, and not. Forsake thy cage,
Thy rope of sands,
Which petty thoughts have made--and made to thee
Good cable, to enforce and draw,
And be thy law,
While thou didst wink and wouldst not see.
Away! Take heed--
I will abroad.
Call in thy death's-head there. Tie up thy fears.
He that forbears
To suit and serve his need,
Deserves his load."
But as I raved, and grew more fierce and wild
At every word,
Methought I heard one calling "_Child!_"
And I replied, "_My Lord!_"
Coming now to speak of his art, let me say something first about his use
of homeliest imagery for highest thought. This, I think, is in itself
enough to class him with the highest _kind_ of poets. If my reader will
refer to _The Elixir_, he will see an instance in the third stanza, "You
may look at the glass, or at the sky:" "You may regard your action only,
or that action as the will of God." Again, let him listen to the pathos
and simplicity of this one stanza, from a poem he calls _The Flower_. He
has been in trouble; his times have been evil; he has felt a spiritual
old age creeping upon him; but he is once more awake.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193