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For the Hand still impelled me at once and supported, suppressed

All the tumult, and quenched it with quiet, and holy behest,
Till the rapture was shut in itself, and the earth sank to rest.
Anon at the dawn, all that trouble had withered from earth-
Not so much, but I saw it die out in the day's tender birth;
In the gathered intensity brought to the gray of the hills;
In the shuddering forests' held breath; in the sudden wind-
thrills;

In the startled wild beasts that bore oft, each with eye sidling still

Though averted with wonder and dread; in the birds stiff and chill

That rose heavily as I approached them, made stupid with awe : E'en the serpent that slid away silent-he felt the new law. The same stared in the white humid faces upturned by the flowers;

The same worked in the heart of the cedar and moved the vine

bowers:

And the little brooks witnessing murmured, persistent and low, With their obstinate, all but hushed voices-" E'en so, it is so!"

RABBI BEN EZRA.

I.

GROW old along with me!

The best is yet to be,

The last of life, for which the first was made:

Our times are in His hand

Who saith, "A whole I planned,

Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be
afraid!"

II.

Not that, amassing flowers,

Youth sighed, "Which rose make ours,

Which lily leave and then as best recall!"

Not that, admiring stars,

It yearned, "Nor Jove, nor Mars;

Mine be some figured flame which blends, transcends

them all!"

III.

Not for such hopes and fears

Annulling youth's brief years,

Do I remonstrate: folly wide the mark!

Rather I prize the doubt

Low kinds exist without,

Finished and finite clods, untroubled by a spark,

IV.

Poor vaunt of life indeed,

Were man but formed to feed

On joy, to solely seek and find and feast.
Such feasting ended, then

As sure an end to men:

Irks care the crop-full bird? Frets doubt the maw crammed beast?

Rejoice we are allied

V.

To That which doth provide

And not partake, effect and not receive!

A spark disturbs our clod:

Nearer we hold of God

Who gives, than of His tribes that take, I must believe.

VI.

Then, welcome each rebuff

That turns earth's smoothness rough,

Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go!

Be our joys three-parts pain!

Strive, and hold cheap the strain ;

Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the

throe!

VII.

For thence,--a paradox

Which comforts while it mocks,

Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail :

What I aspired to be,

And was not, comforts me:

A brute I might have been, but would not sink i' the

scale.

VIII.

What is he but a brute

Whose flesh hath soul to suit,

Whose spirit works lest arms and legs want play?
To man, propose this test-

Thy body at its best,

How far can that project thy soul on its lone way?

IX.

Yet gifts should prove their use:

I own the Past profuse

Of power each side, perfection every turn :
Eyes, ears took in their dole,

Brain treasured up the whole;
Should not the heart beat once

learn?"

X.

66

How good to live and

Not once beat" Praise be thine!

I see the whole design,

I, who saw power, see now love perfect too.

Perfect I call thy plan :

Thanks that I was a man!

Maker, remake, complete,-I trust what Thou shalt do!"

XI.

For pleasant is this flesh;

Our soul, in its rose-mesh

Pulled ever to the earth, still yearns for rest:

Would we some prize might hold

To match those manifold

Possessions of the brute,―gain most, as we did best!

Let us not always say,

XII.

"Spite of this flesh to-day

I strove, made head, gained ground upon the whole!
As the bird wings and sings,

Let us cry

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All good things

Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps soul!"

XIII.

Therefore I summon age

To grant youth's heritage,

Life's struggle having so far reached its term:

Thence shall I pass, approved

A man, for aye removed

From the developed brute; a God though in the germ.

And I shall thereupon

Take rest, ere I be gone

XIV.

Once more on my adventure brave and new:

Fearless and unperplexed,

When I wage battle next,

What weapons to select, what armor to indue.

Youth ended, I shall try

XV.

My gain or loss thereby ;

Leave the fire ashes, what survives is gold:

And I shall weigh the same,

Give life its praise or blame :

Young, all lay in dispute; I shall know, being old.

XVI.

For, note when evening shuts,

A certain moment cuts

The deed off, calls the glory from the gray:

A whisper from the west

Shoots--" Add this to the rest,

Take it and try its worth; here dies another day.”

XVII.

So, still within this life,

Though lifted o'er its strife,

Let me discern, compare, pronounce at last,

“This rage was right i' the main,

That acquiescence vain :

The Future I may face now I have proved the Past."

XVIII.

For more is not reserved

To man, with soul just nerved

To act to-morrow what he learns to-day :

Here, work enough to watch

The Master work, and catch

Hints of the proper craft, tricks of the tool's true play.

As it was better, youth

XIX.

Should strive, through acts uncouth,

Toward making, than repose on aught found made :
So, better, age, exempt

From strife, should know, than tempt

Further. Thou waitedst age; wait death, nor be afraid!

XX.

Enough now, if the Right

And Good and Infinite

Be named here, as thou callest thy hand thine own,
With knowledge absolute,

Subject to no dispute

From fools that crowded youth, nor let thee feel alone.

XXI.

Be there, for once and all,

Severed great minds from small,

Announced to each his station in the Past!

Was I, the world arraigned,

Were they, my soul disdained,

Right? Let age speak the truth and give us peace at last!

XXII.

Now, who shall arbitrate?

Ten men love what I hate,

Shun what I follow, slight what I receive;

Ten, who in ears and eyes

Match me we all surmise,

They, this thing, and I, that: whom shall my soul believe?

Not on the vulgar mass

XXIII.

Called "work," must sentence pass,

Things done, that took the eye and had the price;

O'er which, from level stand,

The low world laid its hand,

Found straightway to its mind, could value in a trice:

XXIV.

But all, the world's coarse thumb

And finger failed to plumb,

So passed in making up the main account:

All instincts immature,

All purposes unsure,

That weighed not as his work, yet swelled the man's

amount:

XXV.

Thoughts hardly to be packed

Into a narrow act,

Fancies that broke through language and escaped:

All I could never be,

All, men ignored in me,

This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped.

XXVI.

Ay, note that Potter's wheel,

That metaphor! and feel

Why time spins fast, why passive lies our clay,

Thou, to whom fools propound,

When the wine makes its round,

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'Since life fleets, all is change; the Past gone, seize to

day!"

XXVII.

Fool! All that is, at all,

Lasts ever, past recall;

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