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230
EPILOGUE.
As one whom care and noisy thoughts distress
Puts out from shore and sees the land grow less,
Delights to feel the sea so gray and vast,
But riots in its wealth of light at last;
So he whose soul the voids of manhood fret,
Who sees the suns that rose beside him set,
Who pales beneath the midnight lamp to find
The painted face of fame, with death behind,
Who learns that love may in a moment end,
And falsehood tarnish the clear name of friend,
Who saps the gilded world, and knows too well
That all is finite, all is mutable,—
Him nothing more can solace or appease,
No tedious counsels point the way to ease,
Unless his wounded heart be framed like those
Round whom the bounteous arms of nature close;
But if of these he be! ah! strange delight
To pass from garish day to tender night!
To feel the cool and changeless earth contend
With calm revolving skies to be his friend;
To watch each flower in fading, and to trust
'Twill soon reanimatc the same dim dust:
In all the voiceless life that round him flows
To feel the same serene and staid repose!
Puts out from shore and sees the land grow less,
Delights to feel the sea so gray and vast,
But riots in its wealth of light at last;
So he whose soul the voids of manhood fret,
Who sees the suns that rose beside him set,
Who pales beneath the midnight lamp to find
The painted face of fame, with death behind,
Who learns that love may in a moment end,
And falsehood tarnish the clear name of friend,
Who saps the gilded world, and knows too well
That all is finite, all is mutable,—
Him nothing more can solace or appease,
No tedious counsels point the way to ease,
Unless his wounded heart be framed like those
Round whom the bounteous arms of nature close;
But if of these he be! ah! strange delight
To pass from garish day to tender night!
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With calm revolving skies to be his friend;
To watch each flower in fading, and to trust
'Twill soon reanimatc the same dim dust:
In all the voiceless life that round him flows
To feel the same serene and staid repose!
He flies the sunlight in its summer strength,
And in a twilight forest flings his length,
Feels silence first, and then in quiet mood,
Drinks in the noiseless music of the wood;
He joys to feel once more the generous heat
Of nature's bosom pulsing at his feet,
Grows blithe and pure as her mute nurselings do,
And wise to penetrate 'twixt false and true,
Till all the wounds that tore his spirit healed,
And something of their meaning half revealed,
He gathers courage, and, with sober mind,
Comes back refreshed to combat with his kind.
And in a twilight forest flings his length,
Feels silence first, and then in quiet mood,
Drinks in the noiseless music of the wood;
He joys to feel once more the generous heat
Of nature's bosom pulsing at his feet,
Grows blithe and pure as her mute nurselings do,
And wise to penetrate 'twixt false and true,
Till all the wounds that tore his spirit healed,
And something of their meaning half revealed,
He gathers courage, and, with sober mind,
Comes back refreshed to combat with his kind.
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