 | The Door of Humility |  |
47
SWITZERLAND
49
XXI
i
Rain, wind, and rain. The writhing lakeScuds to and fro to scape their stroke:
The mountains veil their heads, and make
Of cloud and mist a wintry cloak.
ii
Through where the arching pinewoods makeDusk cloisters down the mountain side,
The loosened avalanches take
Valeward their way, with death for guide,
iii
And toss their shaggy manes and flingTo air their foam and tawny froth,
From ledge and precipice bound and spring,
With hungry roar and deepening wrath;
50
iv
Till, hamlet homes and orchards crushed,And, rage for further ravin stayed,
They slumber, satiated, husht,
Upon the ruins they have made.
v
I rise from larch-log hearth, and, lone,Gaze on the spears of serried rain,
That faster, nigher, still are blown,
Then stream adown the window pane.
vi
The peasant's goatskin garments drip,As home he wends with lowered head,
Shakes off the drops from lid and lip,
Then slinks within his châlet shed.
vii
The cattle bells sound dull and hoarse,The boats rock idly by the shore;
Only the swollen torrents course
With faster feet and fuller roar.
51
viii
Mournful, I shape a mournful song,And ask the heavens, but ask in vain,
“How long, how long?” Ah! not so long
As, in my heart, rain, wind, and rain.
52
XXII
i
I ask the dark, the dawn, the sun,The domeward-pointing peaks of snow,
Lofty and low alike, but none
Will tell me what I crave to know.
ii
My mind demands, “Whence, Whither, Why?”From mountain slope and green defile,
And wait the answer. The reply—
A far-off irresponsive smile.
iii
I ask the stars, when mortals sleep,The pensive moon, the lonely winds;
But, haply if they know, they keep
The secret of secluded minds.
53
iv
Shall I in vain, then, strive to find,Straining towards merely fancied goal?
Where in the lily lurks the mind,
Where in the rose discern the soul?
v
More mindless still, stream, pasture, lake,The mountains yet more heartless seem,
And life's unceasing quest and ache
Only a dream within a dream.
vi
We know no more, though racked with thoughtThan he who, in yon châlet born,
Gives not the riddle, Life, a thought,
But lays him down and sleeps till morn.
vii
Sometimes he kneels; I cannot kneel,So suffer from a wider curse
Than Eden's outcasts, for I feel
An exile in the universe.
54
viii
The rudeness of his birth enuresHis limbs to every season's stings,
And, never probing, so endures
The sadness at the heart of things.
ix
When lauwine growls, and thunder swells,Their far-off clamour sounds to me
But as the noise of clanging bells
Above a silent sanctuary.
x
It is their silence that appals,Their aspect motionless that awes,
When searching spirit vainly calls
On the effect to bare the Cause.
xi
I get no answer, near or far;The mountains, though they soar so high,
And scale the pathless ether, are
No nearer unto God than I.
55
xii
There dwells nor mystery nor veilRound the clear peaks no foot hath trod;
I, gazing on their frontage pale,
See but the waning ghost of God.
xiii
Is Faith then but a drug for sleep,And Hope a fondly soothing friend
That bids us, when it sees us weep,
Wait for the End that hath no end?
xiv
Then do I hear voice unforgotWailing across the distance dim,
“Think, dear! If God existeth not,
Why are you always seeking Him?”
56
XXIII
i
Like glowing furnace of the forge,How the winds rise and roar, as they
Up twisting valley, craggy gorge,
Seek, and still seek, to storm their way;
ii
Then, baffled, up the open slopeWith quickening pulses scale and pant,
Indomitably bent to cope
With bristling fronts of adamant.
iii
All through the day resounds the strife,Then doth at sunset hour subside:
So the fierce passions of our life
Slowly expire at eventide.
57
iv
By Nature we are ne'er misled;We see most truly when we dream.
A singer wise was he who said,
“Follow the gleam! Follow the gleam!”
58
XXIV
i
I dreamed, last night, again I stood,Silent, without the village shrine,
While She in modest maidenhood
Left, fondly clasped, her hand in mine.
ii
And, with a face as cerecloth white,And tears like those that by the bier
Of loved one lost make dim the sight,
She poured her sorrows in mine ear.
iii
“I love your voice, I love your gaze,But there is something dearer still,
The faith that kneels, the hope that prays,
And bows before the Heavenly Will.
59
iv
“Not where hills rise, or torrents roll,Seek Him, nor yet alone, apart;
He dwells within the troubled soul,
His home is in the human heart.
v
“Withal, the peaceful mountains may'Twixt doubt and yearning end the strife:
So ponder, though you cannot pray,
And think some meaning into life:
vi
“Nor like to those that cross the mainTo wander witless through strange land,
Hearing unmastered tongues, disdain
The speech they do not understand.
vii
“Firm stands my faith that they who soundThe depths of doubt Faith yet will save:
They are like children playing round
A still remembered mother's grave;
60
viii
“Not knowing, when they wax more old,And somewhat can her vision share,
She will the winding-sheet unfold,
And beckon them to evening prayer.”
ix
Then, with my hand betwixt her hands,She laid her lips upon my brow,
And, as to one who understands,
Said, “Take once more my vestal vow.
x
“No other gaze makes mine to glow,No other footstep stirs my heart,
To me you only dearer grow,
Dearer and nearer, more apart.
xi
“Whene'er you come with humble mind,The little Door stands open wide,
And, bending low, you still will find
Me waiting on the other side.”
61
xii
Her silence woke me. . . . To your breastFold me, O sleep! and seal mine ears;
That She may roam through my unrest
Till all my dreams are drenched with tears!
62
XXV
i
Why linger longer, subject, here,Where Nature sits and reigns alone,
Inspiring love not, only fear,
Upon her autocratic throne?
ii
Her edicts are the rigid snow,The wayward winds, the swaying branch;
She hath no pity to bestow,
Her law the lawless avalanche.
iii
Though soon cascades will bound and sing,That now but drip with tears of ice,
And upland meadows touched by Spring
Blue gentian blend with edelweiss,
63
iv
Hence to the Land of youthful dreams,The Land that taught me all I know.
Farewell, lone mountain-peaks and streams;
Yet take my thanks before I go.
v
You gave me shelter when I fled,But sternly bade me stem my tears,
Nor aimless roam with rustling tread
'Mong fallen leaves of fruitless years.
| The Door of Humility | |