 | From Sunset Ridge |  |
69
PARABLES
I
“I sent a child of mine to-day;
I hope you used him well.”
“Now, Lord, no visitor of yours
Has waited at my bell.
I hope you used him well.”
“Now, Lord, no visitor of yours
Has waited at my bell.
“The children of the Millionaire
Run up and down our street;
I glory in their well-combed hair,
Their dress and trim complete.
Run up and down our street;
I glory in their well-combed hair,
Their dress and trim complete.
“But yours would in a chariot come
With thoroughbreds so gay;
And little merry maids and men
To cheer him on his way.”
With thoroughbreds so gay;
And little merry maids and men
To cheer him on his way.”
“Stood, then, no child before your door?”
The Lord, persistent, said.
“Only a ragged beggar-boy,
With rough and frowzy head.
The Lord, persistent, said.
“Only a ragged beggar-boy,
With rough and frowzy head.
“The dirt was crusted on his skin,
His muddy feet were bare;
The cook gave victuals from within;
I cursed his coming there.”
His muddy feet were bare;
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I cursed his coming there.”
What sorrow, silvered with a smile,
Slides o'er the face divine?
What tenderest whisper thrills rebuke?
“The beggar-boy was mine!”
Slides o'er the face divine?
What tenderest whisper thrills rebuke?
“The beggar-boy was mine!”
II
Once, where men of high pretension
For the Lord did wait,
Suffer did their pride declension;
Angry grew their state.
For the Lord did wait,
Suffer did their pride declension;
Angry grew their state.
One, impatient, snaps his fingers;
One torments his hair;
One, albeit no pride of singers,
Hums a broken air.
One torments his hair;
One, albeit no pride of singers,
Hums a broken air.
Sitting low apart, a modest
Maiden waited too;
Little weary one, thou ploddest
Ill thy week's work through!
Maiden waited too;
Little weary one, thou ploddest
Ill thy week's work through!
Comes the Lord. From long abiding
They uprise in haste;
With their greeting mingles chiding
For the time they waste.
They uprise in haste;
With their greeting mingles chiding
For the time they waste.
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“Lord, I am a merchant wealthy;
Commerce holds me dear;
Competition enters stealthy
While I tarry here.”
Commerce holds me dear;
Competition enters stealthy
While I tarry here.”
“Lord, for me recondite dinners
Chill on festive boards;
Waste the games, and haste the winners,
While I wait thy words.”
Chill on festive boards;
Waste the games, and haste the winners,
While I wait thy words.”
To this folly of upbraiding
Says the Master, “Yes:
You have waited too, my maiden;
Seek you not redress?”
Says the Master, “Yes:
You have waited too, my maiden;
Seek you not redress?”
“Waiting is such holy pleasure
For a joy most dear;
I had rapture out of measure,
Knowing thou wert near.”
For a joy most dear;
I had rapture out of measure,
Knowing thou wert near.”
III
Beside this goodly mansion's gate
I'll pause, and rest awhile:
Its master will not have me wait;
He beckons with a smile.
“Now, friend, what might your errand be?
Will you walk in for charity?”
I'll pause, and rest awhile:
Its master will not have me wait;
He beckons with a smile.
“Now, friend, what might your errand be?
Will you walk in for charity?”
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Thus I returned him: “Could you know
The treasures in my pack,
And all the bravery and show
I carry at my back,
The merchant's pains you should requite,
Not shame him with the beggar's mite.”
The treasures in my pack,
And all the bravery and show
I carry at my back,
The merchant's pains you should requite,
Not shame him with the beggar's mite.”
“If it content you, open out
The goods you praise so well.”
“I've turned the rolling earth about
For that which here I sell;
No trumpery for the servants' hall:
I only heed the master's call.
The goods you praise so well.”
“I've turned the rolling earth about
For that which here I sell;
No trumpery for the servants' hall:
I only heed the master's call.
“Behold these painful broideries rare,
The costliest Fashion knows;
Such as the chief Sultanas wear,
Steeped with the attar rose.”
“Your shawl is faded, patched, and poor:
It pleases not; show something more.”
The costliest Fashion knows;
Such as the chief Sultanas wear,
Steeped with the attar rose.”
“Your shawl is faded, patched, and poor:
It pleases not; show something more.”
“This crystal phial, art-embossed,
A balsam doth contain
For whose delight an empire's cost
Were scarcely spent in vain.”
“It cannot match one clover-bloom:
Bring other business,—pass perfume.”
A balsam doth contain
For whose delight an empire's cost
Were scarcely spent in vain.”
“It cannot match one clover-bloom:
Bring other business,—pass perfume.”
“Behold this weighty carcanet,
Whose links of sullen gold
Would seem to bind the Favorite yet
In Love's triumphant hold.”
“The iron rusts through these gilded chains,
As smiles discover torture-pains.”
Whose links of sullen gold
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In Love's triumphant hold.”
“The iron rusts through these gilded chains,
As smiles discover torture-pains.”
“Last, then, this diamond, with a light
Kindled 'neath tropic skies:
A slave toiled twenty years of night,
Bleeding, to win this prize.”
“One impulse of the blood you name
Would put your Kohinoor to shame.”
Kindled 'neath tropic skies:
A slave toiled twenty years of night,
Bleeding, to win this prize.”
“One impulse of the blood you name
Would put your Kohinoor to shame.”
“Shall your encounter make me poor,
And desolate of bread?
If all my wealth beside your door
Buys not a pilgrim's bed,
At the next inn I'll set me down,
And travel to the market-town.”
And desolate of bread?
If all my wealth beside your door
Buys not a pilgrim's bed,
At the next inn I'll set me down,
And travel to the market-town.”
“Friend!” said the Master, “coming here,
You passed an unseen bound;
And in the outer region drear
No hostelry is found.
I question all who pass this way,
And grant them leave to go or stay.
You passed an unseen bound;
And in the outer region drear
No hostelry is found.
I question all who pass this way,
And grant them leave to go or stay.
“But in my mansion, too, is wealth
Of garments glad and white:
My chains are helpful bonds of health;
My jewels, heart's delight;
My perfumes waste no joy divine:
Enter; for all I have is thine.”
Of garments glad and white:
My chains are helpful bonds of health;
My jewels, heart's delight;
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Enter; for all I have is thine.”
IV
“Lord of life, why must thou seek me
In this desert wild?
Why so tenderly bespeak me,
Fallen and sin-defiled?
In this desert wild?
Why so tenderly bespeak me,
Fallen and sin-defiled?
“Should thy feet, so fair and glorious,
That in heaven's ways go,
Tread the stony paths laborious
That the wicked know?
That in heaven's ways go,
Tread the stony paths laborious
That the wicked know?
“In abysses darkly yawning,
Where the lost are pent,
Shouldst thou spread the purple awning
Of thy sheltering tent?
Where the lost are pent,
Shouldst thou spread the purple awning
Of thy sheltering tent?
“See! the hell-flames gather round thee,
Raging for thy life:
Tongues of thief and ribald wound thee
Worse than spear or knife.
Raging for thy life:
Tongues of thief and ribald wound thee
Worse than spear or knife.
“Oh! of all my deeds abhorrèd
Is not this the worst,
Fronting thine anointed forehead
With this woe accurst?” ...
Is not this the worst,
Fronting thine anointed forehead
With this woe accurst?” ...
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“Angels, bear him without rudeness
To the breath of morn,
Veiling with your crowns the voidness
Where his brow is shorn.
To the breath of morn,
Veiling with your crowns the voidness
Where his brow is shorn.
“Use no whisper of the evil
That his hand hath done,
Lest a saint become a devil
Torturing such an one.
That his hand hath done,
Lest a saint become a devil
Torturing such an one.
“And that wound, whose deadly feeling
Makes the bosom faint,
Reconcile with swift annealing,
Purge from mortal taint.
Makes the bosom faint,
Reconcile with swift annealing,
Purge from mortal taint.
“Call a feast of stately measure
With a solemn joy,
With all courtesy and pleasure
To him sitting by.
With a solemn joy,
With all courtesy and pleasure
To him sitting by.
“Gather up his long-lost kindred,
Angered and estranged;
For each good gift bring an hundred,
Since his heart is changed.
Angered and estranged;
For each good gift bring an hundred,
Since his heart is changed.
“Bind the robe upon his shoulder,
On his hand the ring;
Since, while Love is treasure-holder,
Sorrow must be king.”
On his hand the ring;
Since, while Love is treasure-holder,
Sorrow must be king.”
| From Sunset Ridge | |