190
A VISION OF POETS.
The far wood-pines, like offing ships—
The fourth pool's yew anear him drips—
World's cruelty attaints his lips;
The fourth pool's yew anear him drips—
World's cruelty attaints his lips;
And still he tastes it—bitter still—
Through all that glorious possible
He had the sight of present ill!
Through all that glorious possible
He had the sight of present ill!
Yet rising calmly up and slowly,
With such a cheer as scorneth folly,
And mild delightsome melancholy,
With such a cheer as scorneth folly,
And mild delightsome melancholy,
He journeyed homeward through the wood,
And prayed along the solitude,
Betwixt the pines,—"O God, my God!"
And prayed along the solitude,
Betwixt the pines,—"O God, my God!"
The golden morning's open flowings
Did sway the trees to murmurous bowings,—
In metric chant of blessed poems.
Did sway the trees to murmurous bowings,—
In metric chant of blessed poems.
And passing homeward through the wood,
He prayed along the solitude,—
"Thou, Poet-God, art great and good!
He prayed along the solitude,—
"Thou, Poet-God, art great and good!
"And though we must have, and have had
Bight reason to be earthly sad,—
Thou, Poet-God, art great and glad."
Bight reason to be earthly sad,—
Thou, Poet-God, art great and glad."
CONCLUSION.
Life treads on life, and heart on heart—
We press too close in church and mart,
To keep a dream or grave apart.
We press too close in church and mart,
To keep a dream or grave apart.
And I was 'ware of walking down
That same green forest where had gone
The poet-pilgrim. One by one
That same green forest where had gone
The poet-pilgrim. One by one
