 | The music-lesson of Confucius, And Other Poems |  |
56
3. PART III.
MODERN.
I WANDER in a wildering dream.
What meaneth this, what meaneth all?
Lord Arion with his dolphin call?
And steam-boats on old sacred streams?
What meaneth this, what meaneth all?
Lord Arion with his dolphin call?
And steam-boats on old sacred streams?
What is this mystery which I hate?
Are dirt and steam the life to live?
Must I the inner truth up-give
With gold-fire interpenetrate?
Are dirt and steam the life to live?
Must I the inner truth up-give
With gold-fire interpenetrate?
I stand beside a mud canal,
I hear six costermongers cry:
The iron road like snake goes by,
Yet the old sun shines over all.
I hear six costermongers cry:
The iron road like snake goes by,
Yet the old sun shines over all.
There is primæval loveliness,
And here is nothing of the kind;
New wisdom drives the soul to wind,
And all is one infernal mess.
And here is nothing of the kind;
New wisdom drives the soul to wind,
And all is one infernal mess.
When Dante sat upon his stone
In Florence, then the world was square.
He knew just how to strike them there,
But now who knows the age's tone?
In Florence, then the world was square.
He knew just how to strike them there,
But now who knows the age's tone?
'Twas better when in Sodom thou
Saw'st God on this side, hell on that
In an arena fair and flat;
But say—where is the devil now?
Saw'st God on this side, hell on that
In an arena fair and flat;
But say—where is the devil now?
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I know a man whose heart is whole,
In the great city of New York;
He deals in stocks and meal and pork:
May God have mercy on my soul!
In the great city of New York;
He deals in stocks and meal and pork:
May God have mercy on my soul!
Were he but Ser Porcone hight!—
And did he but a ducat owe
To sainted Fra Angelico
For painting San Antonio bright!
And did he but a ducat owe
To sainted Fra Angelico
For painting San Antonio bright!
How very easy 'twould have been
To tell the legend of my friend,
Illuminated to the end,
As though 'twere drawn from Voragin!
To tell the legend of my friend,
Illuminated to the end,
As though 'twere drawn from Voragin!
Yet will I tell it as I may,
Although I be a traitor hight,
Gone back on the Pre-Raphael light—
Like the Great Lord of Paint—Millais.
Although I be a traitor hight,
Gone back on the Pre-Raphael light—
Like the Great Lord of Paint—Millais.
This man I knew, whose name was Smith,
By Fate's sharp scalpel lost his wife,
The oyster of his hard shell life,
And of his plant the very pith.
By Fate's sharp scalpel lost his wife,
The oyster of his hard shell life,
And of his plant the very pith.
He mourned her taken up to Heaven
While wandering in his devious ways;
All life a wild and wilful maze,—
And then joined Circle Number Seven.
While wandering in his devious ways;
All life a wild and wilful maze,—
And then joined Circle Number Seven.
Thou know'st not what that means? Then list,—
Such circles are the only rings
In which Romance at present springs,
For Smith had turned Spiritualist.
Such circles are the only rings
In which Romance at present springs,
For Smith had turned Spiritualist.
When next I met him, in his eye
There was a sweet and winky light,
His very hat and gloves seemed bright
With adolescent ecstasy.
There was a sweet and winky light,
His very hat and gloves seemed bright
With adolescent ecstasy.
58
I gently touched upon his woe,
I took him softly by the hand,
But with a motion like command
He turned upon me and cried, ‘Poh!
I took him softly by the hand,
But with a motion like command
He turned upon me and cried, ‘Poh!
‘Condole not with me on the dead;
They never die,—they're always here;
They sip with us the foaming beer,
They're at our table,—and in bed.’
They never die,—they're always here;
They sip with us the foaming beer,
They're at our table,—and in bed.’
‘'Tis true,’ I said. ‘Invisible,
The dead are round us everywhere,
But thinner than the thinnest air:’—
Here Smith replied, derisible:
The dead are round us everywhere,
But thinner than the thinnest air:’—
Here Smith replied, derisible:
‘Such ignorance but makes me laugh,
When yester evening I embraced,
With arms tight locked around her waist,
My dear departed better half.’
When yester evening I embraced,
With arms tight locked around her waist,
My dear departed better half.’
‘Great Heaven,’ I cried, ‘how can that be?
Does then the grave return its dead,
And spirits from the portal sped,
Hie backwards from Eternity?’
Does then the grave return its dead,
And spirits from the portal sped,
Hie backwards from Eternity?’
But Smith replied in calmest tones:
‘This spirit of my darling wife,
Who comes so oft to cheer my life,
Had entered into Mary Jones.
‘This spirit of my darling wife,
Who comes so oft to cheer my life,
Had entered into Mary Jones.
‘You know her—isn't she divine?
God never made a prettier girl,
A real peach—a perfect pearl—
With cheeks which flash with Heaven's wine.
God never made a prettier girl,
A real peach—a perfect pearl—
With cheeks which flash with Heaven's wine.
‘I only hope my wife will stay
A long long time in Mary's form;
She says she finds it nice and warm;
Nor change about—as is her way.
A long long time in Mary's form;
She says she finds it nice and warm;
Nor change about—as is her way.
59
‘For since she died, beyond a doubt
She's been in mediums—let me see!
Yes, altogether, twenty-three!
'Tis hard to follow her about.
She's been in mediums—let me see!
Yes, altogether, twenty-three!
'Tis hard to follow her about.
‘Yet 'tis not all devoid of fun,
If for an instant you reflect,
That I must treat them with respect,
For all the Twenty-Three are One!
If for an instant you reflect,
That I must treat them with respect,
For all the Twenty-Three are One!
‘One spirit, though of different flesh;
But what's the body? Doctors say
It changes atoms every day,—
Only the soul abideth fresh.
But what's the body? Doctors say
It changes atoms every day,—
Only the soul abideth fresh.
And would you make of Earth a Heaven,
Learn that the body is but dust;
Think not of earthly laws or lust,
And join our Circle—Number Seven.’
Learn that the body is but dust;
Think not of earthly laws or lust,
And join our Circle—Number Seven.’
| The music-lesson of Confucius, And Other Poems | |