University of Virginia Library

SECOND-THOUGHTS ON THE ABOVE.

Pardon, great God! most idly was it said:
'Twas in a fit of sadness, and mine eye
Was filmed: but now the dark cloud has pass'd by,
Without a trace, save shame at being led
To speak such foolish thoughts as those it bred!
Earth laughs before my feet (tho' I've reviled
It so, and Thee in it) as Thou hadst smiled
Forgiveness on me thus! and heaven is spread,
In all its boundlessness, above my head:
And, 'neath the bright, blue dome, I kneel for thy
Forgiveness, for the thought was blasphemy.
But now, like yon dim cloudlet, it has fled,
And left me, like the heavens, full of light,
Thy light, by which again I see aright.
And could I say that I had looked too close
At things, when, at my feet, the flower blows,
And the child plays, and on the bough the bird
Sings his heart out, despite that foolish word:
Not caring whether or how close I look,
For not by rote has he learnt from a book
His song, altho' by heart: nor doth he miss
A single note, so perfect in his bliss!
But I had not looked close enough, else had
I seen more of the Good, less of the Bad;
Aye, even there where social man is pent
In cities, and hath scant accomplishment.
Had I looked closer I had yet found Good
E'en in ill things, or some similitude
Thereof, some homage meant it even then,
When most mistaken, by well-meaning men!
Had I looked closer still, I should have seen
God's image on the coin, where it had been
Most chafed, yea! even where effaced, some sign
Whereby to recognize the hand divine!
Or could I say, “that there was nothing here
To fill the heart” when even now the tear,
From thoughts unutterable, dims my sight;
When it is so, so full, that but to hear
The bird's least note makes it gush over quite!
When but a daisy fills it with delight!
And canst thou not, vain mortal, find out aught
To fill thy heart? is it so great then, so
Capacious, that the godliest feeling, though
Love itself, is but as a drop, as naught
Therein? can that which fills God's own heart, yea!
To overflowing, not fill thine, I say?
Is not the rose-bud full of its own scent?
Is not the vine with its own clusters bent?
Is not the bird full of his song too—is
His song not full of love, his love of bliss,
His bliss of heaven, and heaven itself of this?
And canst thou then not fill thy human heart
With human feelings? then, I say, thou art
Not yet a Man! and can the Godlike, can
The thought of God, whose overflowing love
Stoops from emblazoning the clouds above,
To streak the daisy with the selfsame hue
That crimsons them, not fill the heart of man?
Oh fool! then for the flower one drop of dew,
One carol for the bird: one little view
Of his dear master to the faithful hound,
One word of love, nay, of his voice the sound,
Does more than all the Godlike does for thee,
Which for preeminence thou mak'st thy plea,
Which is thy Being, or, at least, should be,
If thou wert truly, or could'st well expound
Thy Being's purport! and if this life gives
Full scope unto the Godlike, Fair, and True,
What matters it then where or how one lives,
More than to live godlike can no one do!