Flower Pieces and other poems By William Allingham: With two designs by Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
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THE TOUCHSTONE. |
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 | Flower Pieces and other poems |  |
127
THE TOUCHSTONE.
Mr. Emerson conferred a dignity on this poem by reciting it in his oration on John Brown's execution. It was printed as his in a great number of American newspapers.
A man there came, whence none could tell,
Bearing a Touchstone in his hand;
And tested all things in the land
By its unerring spell.
Bearing a Touchstone in his hand;
And tested all things in the land
By its unerring spell.
Quick birth of transmutation smote
The fair to foul, the foul to fair;
Purple nor ermine did he spare,
Nor scorn the dusty coat.
The fair to foul, the foul to fair;
Purple nor ermine did he spare,
Nor scorn the dusty coat.
Of heirloom jewels, prized so much,
Were many changed to chips and clods,
And even statues of the Gods
Crumbled beneath its touch.
Were many changed to chips and clods,
And even statues of the Gods
Crumbled beneath its touch.
Then angrily the people cried,
‘The loss outweighs the profit far;
Our goods suffice us as they are;
We will not have them tried.’
‘The loss outweighs the profit far;
Our goods suffice us as they are;
We will not have them tried.’
And since they could not so prevail
To check his unrelenting quest,
They seized him, saying—‘Let him test
How real it is, our jail!’
To check his unrelenting quest,
They seized him, saying—‘Let him test
How real it is, our jail!’
But, tho' they slew him with the sword,
And in a fire his Touchstone burn'd,
Its doings could not be o'erturn'd,
Its undoings restored.
And in a fire his Touchstone burn'd,
Its doings could not be o'erturn'd,
Its undoings restored.
128
And when, to stop all future harm,
They strew'd its ashes on the breeze;
They little guess'd each grain of these
Convey'd the perfect charm.
They strew'd its ashes on the breeze;
They little guess'd each grain of these
Convey'd the perfect charm.
North, south, in rings and amulets,
Throughout the crowded world 'tis borne;
Which, as a fashion long outworn,
Its ancient mind forgets.
Throughout the crowded world 'tis borne;
Which, as a fashion long outworn,
Its ancient mind forgets.
| Flower Pieces and other poems | |