University of Virginia Library

DISCONTENT

Sitting apart,
I hear the murmuring tide of life,
Its onward rush, and foaming strife,
Yet bid my heart
String dainty words in fancies quaint,
And be content.
Lying abed,
I dream, with method in my dream,
And catch up any lights that gleam
Into my head,
And fondle a conceit, beguiled
As by a child.

249

Poring o'er books,
Dingy, old volumes, by the hour,
Which only I and moths devour,
My eyes find hooks
In each dim page, and I have peace
In their increase.
What would I more,
Since I have dropt out of the race,
But eddy in a quiet place
Beside the shore,
And make a play of life, and smile
A little while?
Yet now and then,
A something pricks me, canst thou see
The breaking waves that surge by thee;
And has thy pen
No service, but these fancies odd,
For man or God?
Ah! vexing heart,
Rebellious! fain to seek the fight,
Though broken all thy force and might,
Thou hast no part
In life, but with a patient will
See, and be still.