 | Ballads of the North and Other Poems |  |
98
DIVES.
O Lazarus, between us lies
A gulf which neither yet can pass;
And yet one speaks, and one replies,
Between us close no walls of brass;
My life is lost, my soul undone;
But Abraham calls me still his Son.
A gulf which neither yet can pass;
And yet one speaks, and one replies,
Between us close no walls of brass;
My life is lost, my soul undone;
But Abraham calls me still his Son.
Thy brother too! Year after year,
In this deep dungeon of the dead,
Have we not soul to soul grown near,
By interwoven fateful thread,
Remembering how our days have run
Together, underneath the sun?
In this deep dungeon of the dead,
Have we not soul to soul grown near,
By interwoven fateful thread,
Remembering how our days have run
Together, underneath the sun?
99
Thine eyes upon me used to wait
With a mute pleasure and caress;
As I went in and out my gate
They almost smiled for gentleness;
They seemed to thank me passing by,
For sight of one so fine as I.
With a mute pleasure and caress;
As I went in and out my gate
They almost smiled for gentleness;
They seemed to thank me passing by,
For sight of one so fine as I.
Those patient eyes reproached me not,
Their envy poisoned not my good,
They seemed to say, ‘So mean my lot,
I cannot serve thee as I would.’
I took the will, and was content
With thy admiring wonderment.
Their envy poisoned not my good,
They seemed to say, ‘So mean my lot,
I cannot serve thee as I would.’
I took the will, and was content
With thy admiring wonderment.
Thou hadst no sister, Lazarus,
Thou hadst no friend of human kind;
Thy desolate heart was turned to us,
Some solace for its love to find;
The tender flattery I could read,
But nothing of the piteous need.
Thou hadst no friend of human kind;
Thy desolate heart was turned to us,
Some solace for its love to find;
The tender flattery I could read,
But nothing of the piteous need.
100
I and my brethren were to thee
Thy pageant, freely thine to share;
Thou in thy mouldering rags might'st see
How cool fine linen was to wear;
And every day a sumptuous feast
I spread before thine eyes at least.
Thy pageant, freely thine to share;
Thou in thy mouldering rags might'st see
How cool fine linen was to wear;
And every day a sumptuous feast
I spread before thine eyes at least.
Thou didst my every sense offend,
And yet I sometimes looked thy way,
I knew thee for a humble friend,
I gave thee leave to see me gay;
Gracious and generous to excuse
Thy want of worth, thy want of use.
And yet I sometimes looked thy way,
I knew thee for a humble friend,
I gave thee leave to see me gay;
Gracious and generous to excuse
Thy want of worth, thy want of use.
Out of my luxury's excess
I spared no single drop for thee;
Out of thy utter nakedness
Thou gavest heavenly gift to me;
For ever seeming to implore
My pardon that it was not more.
I spared no single drop for thee;
Out of thy utter nakedness
Thou gavest heavenly gift to me;
For ever seeming to implore
My pardon that it was not more.
101
‘Most worshipful, I cannot serve,
I am a blot in thy fair sight,
No slave's least portion I deserve,
I taint the air, I mar the light:’
Yet I forgave thee all this wrong,
And sometimes threw a dole along.
I am a blot in thy fair sight,
No slave's least portion I deserve,
I taint the air, I mar the light:’
Yet I forgave thee all this wrong,
And sometimes threw a dole along.
O Lazarus, how fiercely ached
Thy burning sores the whole day long!
How was thy bitter thirst unslaked!
No drop of water cooled thy tongue.
And yet my hard heart did not melt;—
I know it now, for I have felt.
Thy burning sores the whole day long!
How was thy bitter thirst unslaked!
No drop of water cooled thy tongue.
And yet my hard heart did not melt;—
I know it now, for I have felt.
How meek and hopeless thy desire
For crumbs that from my table fell;
O Lazarus, the flakes of fire
Fall on my heart, in rain of hell!
Oh, the slow pangs, day after day
Thou starving at my side away!
For crumbs that from my table fell;
O Lazarus, the flakes of fire
Fall on my heart, in rain of hell!
Oh, the slow pangs, day after day
Thou starving at my side away!
102
And yet I missed thee from thy place,
My daily life was incomplete,
My pompous march had lost its grace,
The meal unwatched became less sweet;
By thy humility my pride
No longer could be satisfied.
My daily life was incomplete,
My pompous march had lost its grace,
The meal unwatched became less sweet;
By thy humility my pride
No longer could be satisfied.
We are not fixed so far apart
But that I knew thy face again,
Thy patient face that held my heart
By one last link not snapt in twain:
It seemed a simple thing at first
To call for thee to slake my thirst.
But that I knew thy face again,
Thy patient face that held my heart
By one last link not snapt in twain:
It seemed a simple thing at first
To call for thee to slake my thirst.
Should I not send thee to and fro,
My messenger with willing feet,
Back to my father's house to go,
Along the well-remembered street?
Wouldst thou not hasten, glad and proud,
So much promoted and allowed?
My messenger with willing feet,
Back to my father's house to go,
Along the well-remembered street?
Wouldst thou not hasten, glad and proud,
So much promoted and allowed?
103
And thou, I know—yes, thou art not
Less loving than in days of old;
Thy wistful watch was not forgot;
I seem to hear the sigh that told
Thou too wast frustrate of thy task:—
To minister thou still dost ask.
Less loving than in days of old;
Thy wistful watch was not forgot;
I seem to hear the sigh that told
Thou too wast frustrate of thy task:—
To minister thou still dost ask.
Was this indeed the face I saw
So carelessly, so many days?
Oh, blessèd be the fires that draw
The veil from my besotted gaze!
Thou angel, that I now see plain,
Whom I did never entertain!
So carelessly, so many days?
Oh, blessèd be the fires that draw
The veil from my besotted gaze!
Thou angel, that I now see plain,
Whom I did never entertain!
Too late for me, too late it is!
Dogs were more pitiful than I;
I never gave thee any kiss,
Thy unanointed wounds were dry:
But oh, in vain, how many years
Have I not washed them with my tears!
Dogs were more pitiful than I;
I never gave thee any kiss,
Thy unanointed wounds were dry:
But oh, in vain, how many years
Have I not washed them with my tears!
104
But, O my Lazarus, it is gone;
For ever past is all thy pain;
If for one hour I might atone,
I would not bring it back again:
My everlasting loss I bear,
Once mine, but once, for love and care!
For ever past is all thy pain;
If for one hour I might atone,
I would not bring it back again:
My everlasting loss I bear,
Once mine, but once, for love and care!
Lazarus, my Lazarus, from afar
Still toward me turned thy face I see,
Me from thy smile doth none debar,
Thine eyes look out to comfort me;
Thy hand a sterner law controls:
It is not set between our souls.
Still toward me turned thy face I see,
Me from thy smile doth none debar,
Thine eyes look out to comfort me;
Thy hand a sterner law controls:
It is not set between our souls.
How can I ask thee to forgive,
Who of my crimes no reckoning took?
Who by a monster used to live,
And yet couldst bear on him to look?
Whose spirit dwelt its griefs above,
And only felt the angels' love?
Who of my crimes no reckoning took?
Who by a monster used to live,
And yet couldst bear on him to look?
Whose spirit dwelt its griefs above,
And only felt the angels' love?
105
We cannot now be reconciled,
Where strife has never entered in;
Thy charity, thy suffering mild,
Working with God thy peace to win,
Have worked this miracle as well,—
To save a soul alive in hell.
Where strife has never entered in;
Thy charity, thy suffering mild,
Working with God thy peace to win,
Have worked this miracle as well,—
To save a soul alive in hell.
And still behind thee seems to grow
Another, dimly like to thee,
Whose looks meet mine, till scarce I know
If it were thou or it were He
Who all those years lay on thy bed,
Unloved, unknown, uncomforted.
Another, dimly like to thee,
Whose looks meet mine, till scarce I know
If it were thou or it were He
Who all those years lay on thy bed,
Unloved, unknown, uncomforted.
Weep not for me, O Lazarus!
On Abraham's bosom thou dost hide
Thy tears that flow to see me thus:
Must we not patient both abide?
My sins are greater than my doom:
That which I was, may hell consume!
On Abraham's bosom thou dost hide
Thy tears that flow to see me thus:
Must we not patient both abide?
My sins are greater than my doom:
That which I was, may hell consume!
106
Through all the torment stern and strange,
I feel, as winter feels the spring,
In me and all around a change,
Some far-off day the years will bring:
Perchance thy prayers have brought it near;
God's will be done, both there and here!
I feel, as winter feels the spring,
In me and all around a change,
Some far-off day the years will bring:
Perchance thy prayers have brought it near;
God's will be done, both there and here!
And then, O Lazarus, thou shalt come,
And to thy Master draw me near;
It is thy hand shall lead me home,
It is thy voice shall give me cheer;
And thou too shalt have thy desire
Fulfilled at last, although by fire.
And to thy Master draw me near;
It is thy hand shall lead me home,
It is thy voice shall give me cheer;
And thou too shalt have thy desire
Fulfilled at last, although by fire.
By all our past that we have earned,
May it not be that thou and I,
Together yet, both hearts that yearned,
Thou, O belovèd, set on high,
And I within the lowest place,
May serve one Master face to face?
May it not be that thou and I,
Together yet, both hearts that yearned,
Thou, O belovèd, set on high,
And I within the lowest place,
May serve one Master face to face?
107
Lazarus, my Lazarus, we will go
Together, I on thee will wait;
That souls made wiser by our woe
May learn their lesson not too late.
What need of words between us now?
We know each other, I and thou.
Together, I on thee will wait;
That souls made wiser by our woe
May learn their lesson not too late.
What need of words between us now?
We know each other, I and thou.
| Ballads of the North and Other Poems | |