152 MYSTERIES:
Such an one wrote that word as I would meet,
Lay my life’s burden at his silver feet,
Have him give ear if I say “ Master.” Yea!
I know no heaven, no honour, half so sweet !
He passed before.
me on the wheel of Time,
He who knows no Time—the intense sublime
Master of all philosophy and play,
Lord of all love and music and sweet rhyme.
Follow thou him! Work ever, if thy heart
Be fervent with one hope, thy brain with art, |
Thy lips with song, thine arm with strength to
smite :
Achieve some act; its name shall not depart.
Christ laid Love’s corner-stone, and Cesar built
The tower of glory; Sappho’s life was spilt
_ From fervent lips the torch of song t’ ignite :
Thou mayst add yet a stone—if but thou wilt.
And yet the days stream by; night shakes the day
From his pale throne of purple, to allay
The tremors of the earth ; day smiteth dark
With the swift poignard dipped in Helios’ ray.
The days stream by; with lips and cheeks grown
pale
On their indomitable breast we sail.
There is a favouring wind ; our idle bark
Lingers, we raise no silk to meet the gale.