Volume Iii Part 24 (2/2)
RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
THE RHODORA.
ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER?
In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, To please the desert and the sluggish brook.
The purple petals, fallen in the pool, Made the black water with their beauty gay; Here might the redbird come his plumes to cool, And court the flower that cheapens his array.
Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, Then Beauty is its own excuse for being.
Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose!
I never thought to ask, I never knew: But, in my simple ignorance, suppose The selfsame Power that brought me there brought you.
RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
THE LAND OF SONG: Book III.
_PART III._
[Ill.u.s.tration: R. WESTALL.
CARDINAL WOLSEY RECEIVED AT THE ABBEY.]
PART THREE.
THE DOWNFALL OF WOLSEY.
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blus.h.i.+ng honors thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
_From ”Henry VIII.”_
[Ill.u.s.tration: JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.]
ICHABOD!
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