 | The poetical works of Edmund Clarence Stedman |  |
So the sleeping thoughts of boyhood oped their eyes and newly stirred,
And my muscles cried for usage, till the man their plainings heard:
While the star that lit me ever in the dark and thorny ways,
Mine by natal consecration, by the choice of after days,—
Seen through all the sorrow thickening round the hopes of younger years,—
Rayless grew, and left me groping in the valley of my tears.
And my muscles cried for usage, till the man their plainings heard:
While the star that lit me ever in the dark and thorny ways,
Mine by natal consecration, by the choice of after days,—
Seen through all the sorrow thickening round the hopes of younger years,—
Rayless grew, and left me groping in the valley of my tears.
Seaward now the steamer hovered; seaward far her pennons trailed,
Where the blueness of the heavens at the clear horizon paled;
Where the mingled sky and water faded into fairyland,
Smaller than her tiny model, deftly launched from childhood's hand.
With a statelier swell and longer, up the glacis of the shore,
Came the waves that leapt so freshly in their youth, an hour before.
So I made an end and, turning, reached a scallop-crested rock,
In the stormy spring-tides hurling back the tumult of their shock.
There reclining, gazed a moment at the pebbles by my feet,
Left behind the billowy armies on their oceanward retreat;
Thousands lying close together, where the hosts a passage wore,
Many-hued, and tesselated in a quaint mosaic floor.
Where the blueness of the heavens at the clear horizon paled;
Where the mingled sky and water faded into fairyland,
Smaller than her tiny model, deftly launched from childhood's hand.
With a statelier swell and longer, up the glacis of the shore,
Came the waves that leapt so freshly in their youth, an hour before.
So I made an end and, turning, reached a scallop-crested rock,
37
There reclining, gazed a moment at the pebbles by my feet,
Left behind the billowy armies on their oceanward retreat;
Thousands lying close together, where the hosts a passage wore,
Many-hued, and tesselated in a quaint mosaic floor.
Thinking then upon their fitness,—each adjusted to its place,
Fairly strewn, and smoothed by Nature with her own exceeding grace,—
All at once some unseen warder drew the curtains wide apart,
That awhile had cast their shadow on the picture of my heart;
Told me—“Thou thyself hast said it; in thy calling be of cheer:
Broader continents of action open up in every sphere!
Hold thy lot as great as any: each shall magnify his own,
Each shall find his time to enter, though unheralded and lone,
On the inner life's arena—there to sound his battlecry,
Self with self in secret tourney, underneath the silent sky.
Strong of faith in that mute umpire, some have conquered, and withstood
All the pangs of long endurance, the dear pains of fortitude;
Felt a harsh misapprehension gall the wounds of martyrdom;
In the present rancor measured even the scorn of days to come;
Known that never should the whiteness of their virtue shine revealed,
Never should the truer Future rub the tarnish from the shield.
That diviner abnegation hath not yet been asked of thee:
Art thou able to attain it, if perchance it were to be?
O, our feeble tests of greatness! Look for one so calm of soul
As to take the even chalice of his life and drink the whole.
Noble deeds are held in honor, but the wide world sorely needs
Hearts of patience to unravel this,—the worth of common deeds.”
Fairly strewn, and smoothed by Nature with her own exceeding grace,—
All at once some unseen warder drew the curtains wide apart,
That awhile had cast their shadow on the picture of my heart;
Told me—“Thou thyself hast said it; in thy calling be of cheer:
Broader continents of action open up in every sphere!
Hold thy lot as great as any: each shall magnify his own,
Each shall find his time to enter, though unheralded and lone,
On the inner life's arena—there to sound his battlecry,
Self with self in secret tourney, underneath the silent sky.
Strong of faith in that mute umpire, some have conquered, and withstood
All the pangs of long endurance, the dear pains of fortitude;
Felt a harsh misapprehension gall the wounds of martyrdom;
38
Known that never should the whiteness of their virtue shine revealed,
Never should the truer Future rub the tarnish from the shield.
That diviner abnegation hath not yet been asked of thee:
Art thou able to attain it, if perchance it were to be?
O, our feeble tests of greatness! Look for one so calm of soul
As to take the even chalice of his life and drink the whole.
Noble deeds are held in honor, but the wide world sorely needs
Hearts of patience to unravel this,—the worth of common deeds.”
As the darkened earth forever to the morning turns again;
As the dreaming soldier, after all the perilous campaign,
Struggling long with horse and rider, in his sleep smites fiercely out,
And, with sudden pang awaking, through the darkness peers about,—
Hearing but the crickets chirrup loud, beneath his chimney-stone,
Feeling but the warm heart throbbing, in the form beside his own,—
Then to knowledge of his hamlet, dearer for the toil he knows,
Comes at last, content to nestle in the sweets of his repose,
So fell I, from those high fancies, to the quiet of a heart
Knowing well how Duty maketh each one's share the better part.
As again I looked about me—North and South, and East and West—
Now of all the wide world over still my haven seemed the best.
As the dreaming soldier, after all the perilous campaign,
Struggling long with horse and rider, in his sleep smites fiercely out,
And, with sudden pang awaking, through the darkness peers about,—
Hearing but the crickets chirrup loud, beneath his chimney-stone,
Feeling but the warm heart throbbing, in the form beside his own,—
Then to knowledge of his hamlet, dearer for the toil he knows,
Comes at last, content to nestle in the sweets of his repose,
39
Knowing well how Duty maketh each one's share the better part.
As again I looked about me—North and South, and East and West—
Now of all the wide world over still my haven seemed the best.
Calm, and slowly lifting upward, rose the eastern glory higher,
Gilding sea, and shore, and vessel, and the city-crowning spire.
Then the sailors shook their canvas to the dryness of the sun,
And along the harbor-channel glided schooners, one by one.
At the last I sought my cottage; there, before the garden gate,
By the lilac, stood my darling, looking for her truant mate.
Stooping at the porch, we entered;—where the morning meal was laid,
Turning over holy pages, one as pure and holy played,—
Little Paul, who links more firmly our two hearts than clasp of gold;
And I caught a blessed sentence, while I took him to my hold:
“Peace,” it said, “O restless spirit, eager as the climbing wave!
With my peace there flows a largesse such as monarchs never gave.”
Gilding sea, and shore, and vessel, and the city-crowning spire.
Then the sailors shook their canvas to the dryness of the sun,
And along the harbor-channel glided schooners, one by one.
At the last I sought my cottage; there, before the garden gate,
By the lilac, stood my darling, looking for her truant mate.
Stooping at the porch, we entered;—where the morning meal was laid,
Turning over holy pages, one as pure and holy played,—
Little Paul, who links more firmly our two hearts than clasp of gold;
And I caught a blessed sentence, while I took him to my hold:
“Peace,” it said, “O restless spirit, eager as the climbing wave!
With my peace there flows a largesse such as monarchs never gave.”
| The poetical works of Edmund Clarence Stedman | |