 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
LONGINGS.
I am weary of the mystery
Of life and death, and long to see
Into the great eternity:
Of life and death, and long to see
Into the great eternity:
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The locked hands loosed, the feet untied,
The blank eyes re-illuminéd,
The senseless ashes deified.
The blank eyes re-illuminéd,
The senseless ashes deified.
For as the ages come and go,
The tides of being ever flow,
From light to darkness, ending so.
The tides of being ever flow,
From light to darkness, ending so.
A little gladness for the birth,
For youth a little soberer mirth,
For age, a looking toward the earth—
For youth a little soberer mirth,
For age, a looking toward the earth—
A listening for the spirit's call,
A reaching up the smooth, steep wall
Of the close grave—and this is all.
A reaching up the smooth, steep wall
Of the close grave—and this is all.
Hoping, we find that hope is vain;
Are pleased, and pleasure ends in pain;
Loving, we win no love again.
Are pleased, and pleasure ends in pain;
Loving, we win no love again.
We bring our sorrow, a wild weight,
Praying inexorable fate
To comfort us, and when we wait—
Praying inexorable fate
To comfort us, and when we wait—
Winning no answer to the quest,
Madly with angels we contest,
Asking if that which is, is best.
Madly with angels we contest,
Asking if that which is, is best.
So life wears out, and so the din
Goes on, and other lives begin
The same as though we had not been.
Goes on, and other lives begin
The same as though we had not been.
True, here and there in time's dead mould,
There stands some obelisk of gold,
For which, God knoweth, peace was sold.
There stands some obelisk of gold,
For which, God knoweth, peace was sold.
For they must meet their fellows' frown,
And wear on throbbing brows the crown,
O'er whom death's curtain shuts not down.
And wear on throbbing brows the crown,
O'er whom death's curtain shuts not down.
Others for fame may do and dare,
For me it seems enough to bear
The ills of being while we are:
For me it seems enough to bear
The ills of being while we are:
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Without the strife, to leave behind
A name with laurels intertwined,
To be of evil tongues maligned.
A name with laurels intertwined,
To be of evil tongues maligned.
And had I power to choose, to-day,
Some good to help me on my way,
I truly think that I would say—
Some good to help me on my way,
I truly think that I would say—
“Oh thou who gavest me mortal breath,
And hold'st me here 'twixt life and death,
Double the measure of my faith!”
And hold'st me here 'twixt life and death,
Double the measure of my faith!”
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |