Artemis to Actæon (1909)/Experience
EXPERIENCE
ILike Crusoe with the bootless gold we standUpon the desert verge of death, and say:"What shall avail the woes of yesterdayTo buy to-morrow's wisdom, in the landWhose currency is strange unto our hand?In life's small market they had served to paySome late-found rapture, could we but delayTill Time hath matched our means to our demand."
But otherwise Fate wills it, for, behold,Our gathered strength of individual pain,When Time's long alchemy hath made it gold,Dies with us—hoarded all these years in vain,Since those that might be heir to it the mouldRenew, and coin themselves new griefs again.
IIO Death, we come full-handed to thy gate,Rich with strange burden of the mingled years,Gains and renunciations, mirth and tears,And love's oblivion, and remembering hate.Nor know we what compulsion laid such freightUpon our souls—and shall our hopes and fearsBuy nothing of thee, Death? Behold our wares,And sell us the one joy for which we wait.Had we lived longer, life had such for sale,With the last coin of sorrow purchased cheap,But now we stand before thy shadowy pale,And all our longings lie within thy keep—Death, can it be the years shall naught avail?
"Not so," Death answered, "they shall purchase sleep."