 | The woman who dared |  |
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IV.
Is it then true that woman's proper sphereIs in the affections? that she's out of place
When these are balked, and science, art, or trade
Has won the dedication of her thought?
Nay! the affections are for all; and he,
Or she, has most of life, who has them most.
O, not an attribute of sex are they!
Heart loneliness is loneliness indeed,
But not for woman any more than man,
Were she so trained, her active faculties
Could have a worthy aim.
What worthier,
Than the pursuit, the discipline of beauty?
He who finds beauty helps to interpret God:
For not an irreligious heart can dwell
In him who sees and knows the beautiful.
I'll not believe that one whom Art has chosen
For a high priest can be irreverent,
Sordid, unloving; his veil-piercing eye
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God and the life beyond; not in a dream
Of Pantheistic revery where all
In all is lost, diluted, and absorbed;
And consciousness and personality
Vanish like smoke forever; but all real,
Distinct, and individual, though all
Eternally dependent on the One!
Who gave the Eye to see, shall He not see?
Who gave the Heart to feel, shall He not love?
Of knowledge infinite we know a letter,
A syllable or two, and thirst for more:
Is there not One, Teacher at once and Cause,
Who comprehends all beauty and all science,
Holding infinity, that, step by step,
We may advance, and find, in what seems good
To Him, our gladness and our being's crown?
If this were not, then what a toy the world!
And what a mockery these suns and systems!
And how like pumping at an empty cistern
Were it to live and study and aspire!
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Flash on my inward sight thy radiant shapes!
August interpreter of thoughts divine,
Whether in sound, or word, or form revealed!
Pledge and credential of immortal life!
Grand arbiter of truth! Consoler! come!
Come, help even me to seek thee and to find!
| The woman who dared | |