 | Benoni |  |
136
THE CONFESSIONAL.
How do we drone and shuffle languidly
Thro' the dull round of blank unvaried days,
Only some shallow self awake, to be
Our pilot through life's common outward ways!
Thro' the dull round of blank unvaried days,
Only some shallow self awake, to be
Our pilot through life's common outward ways!
The while, our truer selves, sleep-walking, crush
The proffer'd bloom of sweet reproachful flowers,
Or idly see, without a start or blush,
Their glories waning with the waning hours.
The proffer'd bloom of sweet reproachful flowers,
Or idly see, without a start or blush,
Their glories waning with the waning hours.
The fretful thoughts shoot up and die, or cowed
By rude neglect and sloth, forget to be;
And all the changeful wisdoms, that do crowd
Life's passing periods, make them wings and flee.
By rude neglect and sloth, forget to be;
And all the changeful wisdoms, that do crowd
Life's passing periods, make them wings and flee.
Each paltry act, each little scene, hath force
To hold the total of our souls in thrall:—
'Tis crush'd at birth—'tis frozen at its source—
The master-power to wield and scan them all.
To hold the total of our souls in thrall:—
'Tis crush'd at birth—'tis frozen at its source—
The master-power to wield and scan them all.
137
How should we sweep the broad expanse of life,
Who listless lounge along the level strand,
Nor, mounting o'er the billows and the strife,
Watch the great waters widening from the land?
Who listless lounge along the level strand,
Nor, mounting o'er the billows and the strife,
Watch the great waters widening from the land?
Ah, fiends do drag our struggling spirits down
Along the vulgar ways of vulgar men,—
From our vext foreheads pluck the silver crown
Of pensive thought, and whirl us on, as when
Along the vulgar ways of vulgar men,—
From our vext foreheads pluck the silver crown
Of pensive thought, and whirl us on, as when
They pass'd from Eden to the outer earth,
Those felon-lovers: cringing to the yoke,
We pant and writhe, and to the puny girth
Of theirs, compress our spirits at a stroke.
Those felon-lovers: cringing to the yoke,
We pant and writhe, and to the puny girth
Of theirs, compress our spirits at a stroke.
What skills it, that along the central deep
Yon vivid maze of sheeted lights doth make
A pleasance for itself,—doth fade in sleep
'Neath brooding clouds, and when they pass, awake?
Yon vivid maze of sheeted lights doth make
A pleasance for itself,—doth fade in sleep
'Neath brooding clouds, and when they pass, awake?
What boots it, that this tender blue is full
Of most familiar stars—oh, all but kist
For love, in nightly musings, when we cull
And tend our spirits' darlings as we list?
Of most familiar stars—oh, all but kist
For love, in nightly musings, when we cull
And tend our spirits' darlings as we list?
138
Yea—though all glories of the Earth be here,
And we ensphered among them,—gazing far
Upon chaotic loveliness most dear
And grand of all the wondrous things that are?—
And we ensphered among them,—gazing far
Upon chaotic loveliness most dear
And grand of all the wondrous things that are?—
We cannot read them—keen imperial minds
Who live to the core of all things,—whose bright souls
Are microcosms of all the many worlds
Wherein they sojourn,—whose strong clench controls
Who live to the core of all things,—whose bright souls
Are microcosms of all the many worlds
Wherein they sojourn,—whose strong clench controls
The slippery orb of thought, and grasps at once
All vague impressions as they come,—who trace
The netted veins of secret influence
That blush through all,—may see them face to face;
All vague impressions as they come,—who trace
The netted veins of secret influence
That blush through all,—may see them face to face;
But how, for us, should this exuberant life
Press from its swoln bulk the aromatic showers,
Or these fair things translate themselves in full
Into the rude raw speech of hearts like ours?
Press from its swoln bulk the aromatic showers,
Or these fair things translate themselves in full
Into the rude raw speech of hearts like ours?
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