 | Threescore, and other poems |  |
7
THREESCORE.
I am not old, and will not be;
I daily grow, and joys are piled
About my life, as when a child
I bloomed into Eternity.
I daily grow, and joys are piled
About my life, as when a child
I bloomed into Eternity.
And still for me the sunny day,
Outleaping from mysterious night,
With dew of God's fresh-breathing bright,
Glistens in all its primal ray.
Outleaping from mysterious night,
With dew of God's fresh-breathing bright,
Glistens in all its primal ray.
Each morning is a buoyant birth:
Daily I rise up from the deep
Of bounteous, broad, prolific sleep,—
The only death man knows on earth.
Daily I rise up from the deep
Of bounteous, broad, prolific sleep,—
The only death man knows on earth.
8
I grasp the wonders to my soul,
That flash their freshness far and near,
And tell how great is that career
That bares to me so vast a whole.
That flash their freshness far and near,
And tell how great is that career
That bares to me so vast a whole.
And at the multitudinous joy
Of being, without, within, I drink
As thirsty as when on the brink
I played and pried, a wondering boy.
Of being, without, within, I drink
As thirsty as when on the brink
I played and pried, a wondering boy.
And am I not an infant still?
Or should I pace a sixscore span,
What were it to th' eternal plan
Ordained me by Almighty will?
Or should I pace a sixscore span,
What were it to th' eternal plan
Ordained me by Almighty will?
All earthly time is fagot smoke;
The soul is an upspringing flame,
That, kindled, mounts to whence it came,
And frees itself from yearly yoke.
The soul is an upspringing flame,
That, kindled, mounts to whence it came,
And frees itself from yearly yoke.
9
If I were old, the life within
Would cease to blossom thought and want,
And, like an hoar oak, branchless, gaunt,
Would dribble through a hollow skin.
Would cease to blossom thought and want,
And, like an hoar oak, branchless, gaunt,
Would dribble through a hollow skin.
But new thoughts gush, and wants, as bold
(And wider) as when twenty years
Through dauntless hopes and flying fears
Had shot me into manhood's mould.
(And wider) as when twenty years
Through dauntless hopes and flying fears
Had shot me into manhood's mould.
High beauty's glory ne'er was higher,
Nor so ethereal yet its power,
Nor yet of reaching thought the dower
So glittering with celestial fire.
Nor so ethereal yet its power,
Nor yet of reaching thought the dower
So glittering with celestial fire.
And never in those earlier days,
When joy was bold and hopes were new,
Were rainbows of such heavenly hue,
The future so with life ablaze.
When joy was bold and hopes were new,
Were rainbows of such heavenly hue,
The future so with life ablaze.
10
The quick perennial now is mine
As much as in my wakeful youth,—
Nay, more; for gleams of gathered truth
Their safety on its tempests shine.
As much as in my wakeful youth,—
Nay, more; for gleams of gathered truth
Their safety on its tempests shine.
This mighty now, this lord of life,—
And yet of life itself the thrall,—
Doth sparkle 'mid the sparkling all,
With transcendental vision rife;
And yet of life itself the thrall,—
Doth sparkle 'mid the sparkling all,
With transcendental vision rife;
With vision peering in the deeps
That deepen with the spiritual ken,
Aglow with blest revealings, when
The spirit towards its freedom leaps.
That deepen with the spiritual ken,
Aglow with blest revealings, when
The spirit towards its freedom leaps.
Life is no mouldering sapless swathe,
Our clay-clad bones erect to hold:
'T is flame that kindles worlds untold,
A fire whose warmest pulse is faith.
Our clay-clad bones erect to hold:
'T is flame that kindles worlds untold,
A fire whose warmest pulse is faith.
1865.
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