86
The Conservative
Edited by H.P. Lovecraft
In Vita Elysium.
By Ira A. Cole.
Mortal, why dream'st thou of the after-while,
And gods who wait thy death ere they may smile?
Why build thy heaven in some future time,
On other shores and in another clime?
Why mourn'st thou that the world is all awry,
And man alone must live that he may die?
Canst nothing see in all this beauteous land
So fair as that thou buildest with thy hand?
Canst see no heaven or no gracious God
In these fair hills or on this em'rald sod?
Canst feel no pulsing in this happy life
To tell thee that the world with love is rife?
Canst feel no rapture in the springtime's breath
So sweet as that thou dreamest after death;
Or see no beauty in the summer sky
To woo thee back to earth when thou shalt die?
Canst hear no music in October's rills
So soft as that thy fancy's heaven fills:
And canst thou never quite contented be
Save roaming worlds unknown to all save thee?
O Man! vain egotist! why search so long
For note to rival Nature's wondrous song?
Behold! thou mockest God, thou puny wight,
To find no favour in so grand a sight.
Dost think, thou sluggard, aught thy mind might build
Could rival this one world that God hath will'd;
Dost think thy craven intellect so vast
Could hold this earthly wonder still and last,
Ignoring yet that silent ether space
That night's bright multitudes in splendour grace;
Or those far realms beyond the faintest star
Where still God's wonders in their beauty are?
Go hide thyself alone, ungrateful wretch,
Midst those vast dunes whore Afric's deserts stretch,
Or lose thyself in Arctic’s icy waste,
If thou the mystery of life wouldst taste!
Go climb the mountain's height, or ride the sea,
Or learn life's vibrant song from forest tree;
Go hide thine arrogance 'neath tundras' tide,
And hear the notes the sedgy stringlets guide;
Or seek those inland seas of surging green
Where far the restless trades of fall careen.
Go! Go! vain man, to those unbounded fanes
