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THE DOUBTER'S SOLILOQUY |
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 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
THE DOUBTER'S SOLILOQUY
A white lie, even as the black, I learned to hate;
Being taught clear truth by honest parentage,
And, haply, somewhat morbid in this matter.
'T would come, I fear, not easy to deceive
Even death-beds, for their good, that men, indeed,
Might, as they say, “die happy.” (Not that I
Have never eased, by little lies that helped,—
Being gray with years,—to smooth a neighbor's path,
Or even mine own.) And when I've read brave tales
Wherein the hero like a hero lied,
And saved the other hero from some shame,
Or loss, or ill that seemed itself a lie,
Such tragi-comedies, I've thought, mayhap
Argued a sophist mind in them who wrote.
Being taught clear truth by honest parentage,
371
'T would come, I fear, not easy to deceive
Even death-beds, for their good, that men, indeed,
Might, as they say, “die happy.” (Not that I
Have never eased, by little lies that helped,—
Being gray with years,—to smooth a neighbor's path,
Or even mine own.) And when I've read brave tales
Wherein the hero like a hero lied,
And saved the other hero from some shame,
Or loss, or ill that seemed itself a lie,
Such tragi-comedies, I've thought, mayhap
Argued a sophist mind in them who wrote.
Once reading such a pretty history
The thought came on me with a sickening stroke:
“But what of all the martyrs who died singing,
Smiling and singing in the face of pain,
Of tortured, useless death; seeing just beyond
The flame, the scorch, the shudder—sudden joy;
Joy so intense it threw a splendor back
Into the midst of unfelt agonies!
And what of those, the unknown martyrdoms,
The myriads of faithful, humble souls
Who horribly suffered through long, faithful lives,
Seeing the peace of God beyond the strife!
What of all these if there be no awakening?
If He permitted the Colossal Lie
As opiate for the agony of life—
Who were the sophist then?”
But a voice spake
And said: “Your argument requires a God
All powerful, all present, and all wise,
Who could prevent false notions of Himself
And His designs to fasten on men's minds.
If such a God exists, this is most sure—
He wills not to make plain His character
And mode of government; witness through time
A thousand gods, religions without end,
Each in some souls,—all reverent and sincere,—
Supreme, unquestioned; gods that grimly held
Races and ages round about their thrones.
The thought came on me with a sickening stroke:
“But what of all the martyrs who died singing,
Smiling and singing in the face of pain,
Of tortured, useless death; seeing just beyond
The flame, the scorch, the shudder—sudden joy;
Joy so intense it threw a splendor back
Into the midst of unfelt agonies!
And what of those, the unknown martyrdoms,
The myriads of faithful, humble souls
Who horribly suffered through long, faithful lives,
Seeing the peace of God beyond the strife!
What of all these if there be no awakening?
If He permitted the Colossal Lie
As opiate for the agony of life—
Who were the sophist then?”
But a voice spake
And said: “Your argument requires a God
All powerful, all present, and all wise,
Who could prevent false notions of Himself
And His designs to fasten on men's minds.
If such a God exists, this is most sure—
372
And mode of government; witness through time
A thousand gods, religions without end,
Each in some souls,—all reverent and sincere,—
Supreme, unquestioned; gods that grimly held
Races and ages round about their thrones.
“Your very doubt creates a mighty Power,
Invisible, yet having human traits,
And Him you judge with your sole, finite mind—
You doubt, you dread, you trouble your sad soul.
Were it not best to follow those twin stars
Which light each mortal path: the double stars
Of Love and Duty? If by these you walk
(This has been proved), a solace shall arrive—
A noble solace, a majestic joy.
Whatever of life is worthy of the soul
Then shall be yours. Disdain, disdain all else!”
Invisible, yet having human traits,
And Him you judge with your sole, finite mind—
You doubt, you dread, you trouble your sad soul.
Were it not best to follow those twin stars
Which light each mortal path: the double stars
Of Love and Duty? If by these you walk
(This has been proved), a solace shall arrive—
A noble solace, a majestic joy.
Whatever of life is worthy of the soul
Then shall be yours. Disdain, disdain all else!”
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |