But because God made it human,
All these woes its way environ.
Slighted love! and slighted labor!
Man who in dull hatred passeth
Unjust judgment on his neighbor,
Sorrow for himself amasseth,
And in turn is scorned and hunted;
But who breaks by many bruises
The proud heart to kindness wonted,
Knows his jest the world amuses.
Let me live to brook their smiling—
God! oh, let me live and strengthen;
I can bear their cold reviling,
Bear all, if my day thou lengthen.
All, I said—and yet my spirit
Fainteth at one burning vision—
One wild dream still haunting near it,
Sweet with love, mad with derision.
O she looked an angel shining
On me through her golden hair:
Her sweet eyes seemed aye divining
Some new beauty everywhere:
Smiling out so soft and kindly
On whate'er she looked upon;
Yet my soul but saw her blindly,
As if she had been the sun.
O the poet pines for beauty,
Yet he should not dare approach it!
Far-off worship is his duty:
E'en the idol would reproach it,
Were his wild devotion nearer;
Oftener for the brainless rover
Is reserved that other, dearer
Right to be the loved and lover.
