 | Rehearsals (1870) |  |
112
ACQUIESCENCE.
Man, leave the gods their way.Let them, O man, prevail:
Mighty and more than thou,
How should their anger fail?
Why settest thou thy baby palms
To wrestle down the thews that may not tire?
Why wilt thou vex thyself to be as they,
Weakling of sorrow and sleep?
Why wilt thou thrust about the world for peace?
God is at peace alone.
Take from their careless hands
The morsels of their pity as they fall:
Take from their scornful brows
The curse, and call them just.
113
They use thee as they choose.
Count every happy dream
As stolen from the envy of their power.
Turn at the last to slumber, if no great woe
Hath taken thee, secure,
That under the warm earth to vex thy sleep
Their hands can never come.
| Rehearsals (1870) | |