 | The lion's cub |  |
THE POTTER.
I watched a potter at his wheel one day,
For he was making pitchers out of clay,
The feet of beggars and the heads of kings,
Dust blown from old, dead cities far away.
For he was making pitchers out of clay,
The feet of beggars and the heads of kings,
Dust blown from old, dead cities far away.
Not Heaven itself more splendid is and high
Than was this palace, when its kings went by,
Race after race. The turtle sits here now.
“Where? where?” she cries. But there is no reply.
Than was this palace, when its kings went by,
Race after race. The turtle sits here now.
“Where? where?” she cries. But there is no reply.
They who endowed with wisdom are like light,
Torches to guide their followers' feet aright,
They have not taken yet one step beyond
This night of mystery—this awful Night.
Torches to guide their followers' feet aright,
They have not taken yet one step beyond
This night of mystery—this awful Night.
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Speak of these wise ones, then, with bated breath;
The most that of the wisest Wisdom saith,
Is—they bequeathed you fables, nothing more,
Before returning to the sleep of death.
The most that of the wisest Wisdom saith,
Is—they bequeathed you fables, nothing more,
Before returning to the sleep of death.
The great wheel of the Heavens will still go round,
When you and I, my friend, are underground,
At once creating life, conspiring death,
With Death and Life inexorably bound.
When you and I, my friend, are underground,
At once creating life, conspiring death,
With Death and Life inexorably bound.
Come, sit upon the grass, and drink your wine,
And quickly while the suns of summer shine;
For other grass than that you sit upon
Will soon be springing from your dust and mine.
And quickly while the suns of summer shine;
For other grass than that you sit upon
Will soon be springing from your dust and mine.
When you and I are gone, for we must go,
They will raise bricks above us, and I know
That other bricks for other tombs than ours
Will out of us be moulded. Be it so.
They will raise bricks above us, and I know
That other bricks for other tombs than ours
Will out of us be moulded. Be it so.
I do not fear the world. I do not fear
The leaving it, though I confess it dear.
We should fear nothing but not living well,
In the only life and world we know of—Here.
The leaving it, though I confess it dear.
We should fear nothing but not living well,
In the only life and world we know of—Here.
But come, my friend, since we must pass away,
Since all we are goes back again to clay,
What does it matter whether we remain
A hundred years, or but a single day?
Since all we are goes back again to clay,
What does it matter whether we remain
A hundred years, or but a single day?
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Be it our care, since pitchers we began,
To hold the heart's good wine long as we can,
Before the potter moulds our dust again
Into new shapes that are no longer Man.
To hold the heart's good wine long as we can,
Before the potter moulds our dust again
Into new shapes that are no longer Man.
| The lion's cub | |