 | Le Cahier Jaune |  |
90
(1) ART.
To range abroad at will,
To pluck the flower and trace the woodland stream,
Sleep when I will, and when I sleep to dream,
Enfolding, gathering still;
To pluck the flower and trace the woodland stream,
Sleep when I will, and when I sleep to dream,
Enfolding, gathering still;
To be at large and free,
To hover high, not wallow with the low;
No impulse to reject, no fear to know,
To learn humanity:
To hover high, not wallow with the low;
No impulse to reject, no fear to know,
To learn humanity:
All day, and then at eve
To sort my prodigal spoil, and portion out
This medicine for despair and that for doubt,
Nought for myself to leave;
To sort my prodigal spoil, and portion out
This medicine for despair and that for doubt,
Nought for myself to leave;
But give myself, the best
That I could fashion, giving self the rein;
Royally, recklessly, my joy, my pain;—
Then claim my sovereign rest.
That I could fashion, giving self the rein;
Royally, recklessly, my joy, my pain;—
Then claim my sovereign rest.
91
(2) FAITH.
To sit at home and sigh,
To check the tired eyes that are fain to soar,
Beyond the blue hills and the winding shore
In careless liberty:
To check the tired eyes that are fain to soar,
Beyond the blue hills and the winding shore
In careless liberty:
To curb each impulse wild,
To drudge and minister and ask no fee,
And should rewards shower on me, let them be
To bless some wondering child.
To drudge and minister and ask no fee,
And should rewards shower on me, let them be
To bless some wondering child.
To portion out the light
And sweetness, that may just suffice to give
Due strength to keep the failing brain alive,
And nerve the hand to fight;
And sweetness, that may just suffice to give
Due strength to keep the failing brain alive,
And nerve the hand to fight;
As some rich tree that grows
Cribbed and confined, its young luxuriance shorn,
To bear the sweetness it would ne'er have borne,
But for those biting throes.
Cribbed and confined, its young luxuriance shorn,
To bear the sweetness it would ne'er have borne,
But for those biting throes.
92
(3) THE COMPROMISE.
Not mine to reconcile
The seeming paradox, not mine to choose
Between the pure and high—to reign; or lose
The kingdom for a while
The seeming paradox, not mine to choose
Between the pure and high—to reign; or lose
The kingdom for a while
For that thin crown that hangs
Above the starry silence, oh, meseems
Too faint and delicate for aught but dreams!
Yet whence these envious pangs?
Above the starry silence, oh, meseems
Too faint and delicate for aught but dreams!
Yet whence these envious pangs?
The sceptre or the rod?
This most I dread: to hear the pleading call
And falter: grasp and hesitate: to fall
Between myself and God.
This most I dread: to hear the pleading call
And falter: grasp and hesitate: to fall
Between myself and God.
Lambeth, 1892.
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