The Poems and Prose Remains of Arthur Hugh Clough/Volume 2/Two Moods
TWO MOODS.
Ah, blame him not because he's gay!That he should smile, and jest, and playBut shows how lightly he can bear,How well forget that load which, whereThought is, is with it, and howe'erDissembled, or indeed forgot,Still is a load, and ceases not.This aged earth that each new springComes forth so young, so ravishingIn summer robes for all to see,Of flower, and leaf, and bloomy tree,For all her scarlet, gold, and green,Fails not to keep within unseenThat inner purpose and that forceWhich on the untiring orbit's courseAround the sun, amidst the spheresStill bears her thro' the eternal years.Ah, blame the flowers and fruits of May,And then blame him because he's gay.
Ah, blame him not, for not being gay,Because an hundred times a dayHe doth not currently repaySweet words with ready words as sweet,And for each smile a smile repeat.To mute submissiveness confined,Blame not, if once or twice the mindIts pent up indignation wreakIn scowling brow and flushing cheek,And smiles curled back as soon as born,To dire significance of scorn.
Nor blame if once, and once againHe wring the hearts of milder men,If slights, the worse if undesigned, Should seem unbrotherly, unkind;For though tree wave, and blossom blow Above, earth hides a fire below;Her seas the starry laws obey,And she from her own ordered way, Swerves not, because it dims the day Or changes verdure to decay.Ah, blame the great world on its way, And then blame him for not being gay.