 | Poems |  |
129
A SKETCH.
I knew a child who came to be a boy,
But faded long before his summer-tide;
For he lay down, and grew cold, white and still,
With the quick light gone from his weary eye,
Men call it “dead”—in this most like us all,
But in all else most unlike. Why it was so
He knows Who maketh souls; for this was One
Who might have sought out even God himself
And told his true name to the cheated nations,
But that his spirit fed on empty dreams,
Living to-day upon the promise of
Impossible to-morrows, till he lost
The strength to will and energy to work,
And wandered in the world, not of the world,
Cursed with intensest longings after good,
And consciousness that it could never come.
And they who knew him little loved him not,
And they who knew him nothing hated him,
And they who knew him best and loved him most
Held him in pity! yet his heart was good,
Easily moved, and more than once it gave
For one kind word or smile a whole life's love.
And two, or three at most, who read him right,
Looked deep into his heart, and saw its secret;
And seeing, wondered; ay, and wondering loved;
So that they never left him through his life,
And only smiled when men spake evil of him.
But faded long before his summer-tide;
For he lay down, and grew cold, white and still,
With the quick light gone from his weary eye,
Men call it “dead”—in this most like us all,
But in all else most unlike. Why it was so
He knows Who maketh souls; for this was One
Who might have sought out even God himself
And told his true name to the cheated nations,
But that his spirit fed on empty dreams,
Living to-day upon the promise of
Impossible to-morrows, till he lost
The strength to will and energy to work,
And wandered in the world, not of the world,
Cursed with intensest longings after good,
And consciousness that it could never come.
130
And they who knew him nothing hated him,
And they who knew him best and loved him most
Held him in pity! yet his heart was good,
Easily moved, and more than once it gave
For one kind word or smile a whole life's love.
And two, or three at most, who read him right,
Looked deep into his heart, and saw its secret;
And seeing, wondered; ay, and wondering loved;
So that they never left him through his life,
And only smiled when men spake evil of him.
Great visious had he of an honoured name,
For he could tell his sorrows in a song
Most strangely beautiful; but from this hope
Time had divorced him: so another hope
More fair and flattering he cherished long,
To love and to be loved by some sweet lady;
And when he found one for his soul to worship
She could not love him! so this hope went too.
Then took he no more heed to guide his vessel,
But driving pilotless before the storm,
Under the waves of life he went for ever!
For he could tell his sorrows in a song
Most strangely beautiful; but from this hope
Time had divorced him: so another hope
More fair and flattering he cherished long,
To love and to be loved by some sweet lady;
And when he found one for his soul to worship
She could not love him! so this hope went too.
Then took he no more heed to guide his vessel,
But driving pilotless before the storm,
Under the waves of life he went for ever!
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