 | Poems |  |
UNRETURNING.
Three things never come again.
Snow may vanish from the plain,
Blossoms from the dewy sod,
Verdure from the broken clod,
Water from the river's bed,
Forests from the mountain's head.
Night may brighten into day,
Noon in midnight fade away;
Yet the snow shall come once more
When the winter tempest roar.
Blossoms each returning spring
In her laden arms shall bring,
Grass be green where ploughshares run,
Rivers flash in autumn's sun,
Time shall bid the forests grow,
Noon and night both come and go,
But though all thy soul complain,
Three things shall not come again!
Snow may vanish from the plain,
Blossoms from the dewy sod,
Verdure from the broken clod,
Water from the river's bed,
Forests from the mountain's head.
Night may brighten into day,
Noon in midnight fade away;
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When the winter tempest roar.
Blossoms each returning spring
In her laden arms shall bring,
Grass be green where ploughshares run,
Rivers flash in autumn's sun,
Time shall bid the forests grow,
Noon and night both come and go,
But though all thy soul complain,
Three things shall not come again!
Never to the bow that bends
Comes the arrow that it sends:
Spent in space, its airy flight
Vanishes like lost delight.
When with rapid aim it sprang
From the bow-string's shivering twang,
Straight to brain or heart it fled,
Once for all its course was sped.
No wild wail upon its track
Brings the barb of vengeance back:
Hold thy hand before it go:
Pause, beside the bended bow:
Hurtled once across the plain,
No sent arrow comes again!
Comes the arrow that it sends:
Spent in space, its airy flight
Vanishes like lost delight.
When with rapid aim it sprang
From the bow-string's shivering twang,
Straight to brain or heart it fled,
Once for all its course was sped.
No wild wail upon its track
Brings the barb of vengeance back:
Hold thy hand before it go:
Pause, beside the bended bow:
Hurtled once across the plain,
No sent arrow comes again!
Never comes the chance that passed,
That one moment was its last:
Though thy life upon it hung,
Though thy death beneath it swung,
If thy future all the way
Now in darkness goes astray,
When the instant born of Fate
Passes through the golden gate,
When the hour, but not the man,
Comes and goes from nature's plan,
Never more its countenance
Beams upon thy slow advance:
Never more that time shall be,
Burden-bearer unto thee.
Weep and search o'er land or main,
Lost chance never comes again!
That one moment was its last:
Though thy life upon it hung,
Though thy death beneath it swung,
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Now in darkness goes astray,
When the instant born of Fate
Passes through the golden gate,
When the hour, but not the man,
Comes and goes from nature's plan,
Never more its countenance
Beams upon thy slow advance:
Never more that time shall be,
Burden-bearer unto thee.
Weep and search o'er land or main,
Lost chance never comes again!
Never shall thy spoken word
Be again unsaid, unheard.
Well its work the utterance wrought;
Woe or weal, whate'er it brought:
Once for all the rune is read
Once for all the judgment said.
Though it pierced a poisoned spear
Through the soul thou holdest dear,
Though it quiver, fierce and deep,
Through some stainless spirit's sleep;
Idle, vain, the flying sting
That a passing rage might bring,
Speech shall give it fangs of steel.
Utterance all its barb reveal.
Be again unsaid, unheard.
Well its work the utterance wrought;
Woe or weal, whate'er it brought:
Once for all the rune is read
Once for all the judgment said.
Though it pierced a poisoned spear
Through the soul thou holdest dear,
Though it quiver, fierce and deep,
Through some stainless spirit's sleep;
Idle, vain, the flying sting
That a passing rage might bring,
Speech shall give it fangs of steel.
Utterance all its barb reveal.
Give thy tears of blood and fire,
Pray with pangs of mad desire,
Offer life and soul and all,
That one sentence to recall.
Wrestle with its fatal wrath,
Chase with flying feet its path.
Rue it all thy lingering days,
Hide it deep with love and praise.
Once for all thy word is sped,
None evade it but the dead.
All thy travail will be vain,
Spoken words come not again!
Pray with pangs of mad desire,
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That one sentence to recall.
Wrestle with its fatal wrath,
Chase with flying feet its path.
Rue it all thy lingering days,
Hide it deep with love and praise.
Once for all thy word is sped,
None evade it but the dead.
All thy travail will be vain,
Spoken words come not again!
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