 | The hill of stones and other poems |  |
82
THE MARSIL.
Safely moored on the dappled water,
The broad green lily-pads dip and sway,
While, like a skipper, a gray frog rides
The biggest leaf in the tiny bay.
The broad green lily-pads dip and sway,
While, like a skipper, a gray frog rides
The biggest leaf in the tiny bay.
Merrily leap the brown-cheeked waves
To seize the sunlight's liberal gold,
Which shakes and flickers among the reeds,
And on the stones of the beach is rolled.
To seize the sunlight's liberal gold,
Which shakes and flickers among the reeds,
And on the stones of the beach is rolled.
O'er marish meadows, and far beyond,
Silken and green or velvety gray,
Tufted grasses with shifting colors
In the wholesome north wind toss and play.
Silken and green or velvety gray,
Tufted grasses with shifting colors
In the wholesome north wind toss and play.
83
Lonely and sad, on the sea of green,
The cardinal-flower a light-house stands,—
A scarlet blaze in the morning sun,
To guide the honey-bees' toiling bands.
The cardinal-flower a light-house stands,—
A scarlet blaze in the morning sun,
To guide the honey-bees' toiling bands.
What was it for, this flower's beauty,
Its royal color's marvelous glow?
Not, like a good deed, still rejoicing
The soul that grew it, though no one know.
Its royal color's marvelous glow?
Not, like a good deed, still rejoicing
The soul that grew it, though no one know.
All unconscious, only a flower,
Life without zest, and death without thought;
Lost as a stone to the sweet, deep pleasure
Its scarlet wonder to me has brought.
Life without zest, and death without thought;
Lost as a stone to the sweet, deep pleasure
Its scarlet wonder to me has brought.
Has it, I ponder, no sense of pleasing,
No least estate in the world of joy?
Have the leaf and the grass no conscious sense
Of what they give us,—no want or cloy?
No least estate in the world of joy?
Have the leaf and the grass no conscious sense
Of what they give us,—no want or cloy?
84
Not so unlike us. The words that weight us
With keenest sorrow and longest pain
Fall oft from lips that rest unconscious
If that they give us be loss or gain.
With keenest sorrow and longest pain
Fall oft from lips that rest unconscious
If that they give us be loss or gain.
Do I only have power to fill me
From sun and flower with joy intense?
Has yon cold frog on his lonely leaf raft
No lower share through a duller sense?
From sun and flower with joy intense?
Has yon cold frog on his lonely leaf raft
No lower share through a duller sense?
Think you the ladies he woos are sought
For form, or color, or beauty's sake?
That, touched with sorrow, he mourns to-day
Some mottled Helen beneath the lake?
For form, or color, or beauty's sake?
That, touched with sorrow, he mourns to-day
Some mottled Helen beneath the lake?
Why should fret us this constant riddle,
To know if Nature be kind or harsh
To the pensive frog on his green-ribbed float,
The scarlet queen of the lonely marsh?
To know if Nature be kind or harsh
To the pensive frog on his green-ribbed float,
The scarlet queen of the lonely marsh?
85
Haply, in thought-spheres far above us,
Some may watch us with larger powers,
Asking if we have wit or reason,
Asking if pain or joy be ours.
Some may watch us with larger powers,
Asking if we have wit or reason,
Asking if pain or joy be ours.
But does it vex me, this endless riddle
I toss about in my helpless brain,
To know if life be worth the having,
If just mere being be any gain?
I toss about in my helpless brain,
To know if life be worth the having,
If just mere being be any gain?
Scarce can I answer. Something surely
The thought has brought me this summer morn,—
Something for me in life were missing
If frog and flower had ne'er been born.
The thought has brought me this summer morn,—
Something for me in life were missing
If frog and flower had ne'er been born.
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