The Poetry of Real Life A New Edition, Much Enlarged and Improved. By Henry Ellison |
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ON FANCY-DREAMERS, WHO THINK REAL LIFE TOO COMMONPLACE
FOR THEM. |
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 | The Poetry of Real Life |  |
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ON FANCY-DREAMERS, WHO THINK REAL LIFE TOO COMMONPLACE FOR THEM.
What would'st thou breathe, if not this common air!Art thou then so uncommon good and great,
That common things thou canst not tolerate!
Yet, wert thou so, 'twere but a reason fair,
Why thou should'st be still more considerate—
Is it not Ether, common as it is?
Or, at the least, may be made so for his
Wise service, who doth breathe it not in hate
And scorn, but love to all men, which makes bliss
Divine, and airs from heav'n with it doth bear,
To witness for it! are thy fellow-men
Not with thee here as Angels, or what are
To be such, therefore godlike? what more then
Canst thou require? thou dost thyself create
The “Commonplace”—but in thyself—not there
Where thou believ'st it—strive to elevate
Thy view of life: view Man as if he were
All that is godlike! and let all who bear
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Thou'dst raise, and thyself with it—yea! e'en when
'Tis but a Beggar, give him back again
His greeting in all love and awe, nor dare
To think the least ill thought of him when gone:
But, for Christ's sake, and for thine own, forbear.
Make no invidious comparison:
But welcome even him as a coheir
Of immortality, and speed him on!
And then, the more, more sober-mindedly,
More wide awake, uninterruptedly,
Thou breath'st this air, which makes us Men alone,
And gives to mind and body health and tone,
As simply what it is: the deeper thy
Belief that all are godlike, from thine own
Heart feeling it: which first must make it known,
And possible: the more reality
Thou giv'st this truth in act, unshaken by
Vain doubts and fancies, then wilt thou have grown
By so much more an Angel, an ally
And minister of heaven, that thine eye
In all, who meet thee 'neath the holy sun,
Will see nought but the Angel—yea! not one
Wilt thou then, as a common Being, try
Beneath thee to degrade—as tho' upon
His head an halo shone forth visibly,
To vindicate, in him, Humanity,
Wilt thou respect him then—wilt see, anon,
That fancy's dreams were but a gilded Lie,
That Truth is, at once, Fact and Poetry,
And that this common Air, which we live on,
Is the pure Ether of God's blessed sky!
| The Poetry of Real Life | |