 | The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill |  |
202
A REPLY
To the mother of the world,
Not for help or light or grace,
Basely I for comfort came:
And I brought my craven fears,
Late amends of useless tears,
Brought my stumbling feet so lame,
Hopes with weary pinions furled,
Every longing unattained,
All my love with self-love stained,—
Told them to her grave, mild face.
Not for help or light or grace,
Basely I for comfort came:
And I brought my craven fears,
Late amends of useless tears,
Brought my stumbling feet so lame,
Hopes with weary pinions furled,
Every longing unattained,
All my love with self-love stained,—
Told them to her grave, mild face.
And the mother of the world
Spake, and answered unto me,
In the brook that past me purled;
In the bluebird's heavenly hue,
When beyond his downward swerve
Up he glanced, a sweep of blue;
In the sunshine's shifting spray,
Drifted in beneath the tree
Where I sheltered, lest its flood
There outside should drown my blood;
In the cloud-pearl's melting curve;
In the little odorous thrill
Trembling from each blossom-bell;
In the silence of the sky,
And the thoughts that from it fell,
Floating as a snowflake will,—
So the mother answered me:
Spake, and answered unto me,
In the brook that past me purled;
In the bluebird's heavenly hue,
When beyond his downward swerve
Up he glanced, a sweep of blue;
In the sunshine's shifting spray,
Drifted in beneath the tree
Where I sheltered, lest its flood
There outside should drown my blood;
In the cloud-pearl's melting curve;
In the little odorous thrill
Trembling from each blossom-bell;
203
And the thoughts that from it fell,
Floating as a snowflake will,—
So the mother answered me:
“Child! it is not thine to see
Why at all thy life should be,
Wherefore thou must thus abide,
Foiled, repulsed, unsatisfied.
Thou hast not to prove thy right
To the earth-room and the light.
Thou hast not to justify
Thought of mine to human eye.
I have borne thee! Trust to me!
Strength and help are in thy deed;
Comfort thou shalt scorn to need.
Careless what shall come to thee,
Look but what thy work shall be.”
Why at all thy life should be,
Wherefore thou must thus abide,
Foiled, repulsed, unsatisfied.
Thou hast not to prove thy right
To the earth-room and the light.
Thou hast not to justify
Thought of mine to human eye.
I have borne thee! Trust to me!
Strength and help are in thy deed;
Comfort thou shalt scorn to need.
Careless what shall come to thee,
Look but what thy work shall be.”
| The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill | |