 | The collected poems of William Ellery Channing the younger, 1817-1901 |  |
971
UNFAITHFUL FRIENDSHIP
You recollect our younger years, my Friend,
And rambles in the country; life could lend
No choicer volumes for the Student's eye.
You must remember that it was not I
Who brought conclusion to these rambling moods—
Our joint connection with the streams and woods:
'T was ever thou—thou who art steeped in thought,
Subtle and dexterous, wise—but good for naught.
I mean no harm; thou art not good for me—
Thou reasonest, demandest; I ask thee.
And rambles in the country; life could lend
No choicer volumes for the Student's eye.
You must remember that it was not I
Who brought conclusion to these rambling moods—
Our joint connection with the streams and woods:
'T was ever thou—thou who art steeped in thought,
Subtle and dexterous, wise—but good for naught.
I mean no harm; thou art not good for me—
Thou reasonest, demandest; I ask thee.
Thou didst not know that Friendship is a kiss—
Not thought, philosophy,—some Sage's bliss,—
But a strange fire that falleth from above;
The gods have named this star-shower Human Love.
No—thou wert blinded; thou saidst, “Friend, forbear!
Do not come nigh—my heart thou canst not share.”
(My heart, alas! I gave that all away.)
“I do not love thee near me; bide thy day!
Fashion I seek, and whirling gayety,
Not thou, sad Poet! what art thou to me?
More—I have married an angelic wife,
Who wreathes with roses my enchanted life;
Thou art superfluous—come not thou too near!
Let us be distant friends, and no more dear.
Not thought, philosophy,—some Sage's bliss,—
But a strange fire that falleth from above;
The gods have named this star-shower Human Love.
No—thou wert blinded; thou saidst, “Friend, forbear!
Do not come nigh—my heart thou canst not share.”
(My heart, alas! I gave that all away.)
“I do not love thee near me; bide thy day!
Fashion I seek, and whirling gayety,
Not thou, sad Poet! what art thou to me?
972
Who wreathes with roses my enchanted life;
Thou art superfluous—come not thou too near!
Let us be distant friends, and no more dear.
“What were thy eager fancies, running o'er
Half of the world? I anchor near the shore:
Thy silly jests for idlers' ears are fit,
And only silence complements thy wit.
I love thee at arm's-length; my quarantine
Declares pacific measures, and divine.
I would it were not so—poor, helpless thing,
That like a blue jay can but shriek or sing
Those lamentable ditties that refuse
To call themselves productions of the Muse!
Nay! walk not with me in the curling wood!
I stride abroad in quest of solitude.
I love my friends far off; when they come near,
Too warm! too warm the crowded atmosphere.”
Half of the world? I anchor near the shore:
Thy silly jests for idlers' ears are fit,
And only silence complements thy wit.
I love thee at arm's-length; my quarantine
Declares pacific measures, and divine.
I would it were not so—poor, helpless thing,
That like a blue jay can but shriek or sing
Those lamentable ditties that refuse
To call themselves productions of the Muse!
Nay! walk not with me in the curling wood!
I stride abroad in quest of solitude.
I love my friends far off; when they come near,
Too warm! too warm the crowded atmosphere.”
| The collected poems of William Ellery Channing the younger, 1817-1901 | |