Part 6 (2/2)

But with a blessing every glade receives High salutation; while from hillock-eaves The deer gaze calling, dappled white and dun, As if, being foresters of old, the sun Had marked them with the shade of forest-leaves.

Here dawn to-day unveiled her magic gla.s.s; Here noon now gives the thirst and takes the dew; Till eve bring rest when other good things pa.s.s.

And here the lost hours the lost hours renew While I still lead my shadow o'er the gra.s.s, Nor know, for longing, that which I should do.

THE HILL SUMMIT

This feast-day of the sun, his altar there In the broad west has blazed for vesper-song; And I have loitered in the vale too long And gaze now a belated wors.h.i.+pper.

Yet may I not forget that I was 'ware, So journeying, of his face at intervals Transfigured where the fringed horizon falls,-- A fiery bush with coruscating hair.

And now that I have climbed and won this height, I must tread downward through the sloping shade And travel the bewildered tracks till night.

Yet for this hour I still may here be stayed And see the gold air and the silver fade And the last bird fly into the last light.

THE CHOICE

I

Eat thou and drink; to-morrow thou shalt die.

Surely the earth, that's wise being very old, Needs not our help. Then loose me, love, and hold Thy sultry hair up from my face that I May pour for thee this yellow wine, brim-high, Till round the gla.s.s thy fingers glow like gold.

We'll drown all hours: thy song, while hours toil'd, Shall leap, as fountains veil the changing sky.

Now kiss, and think that there are really those, My own high-bosomed beauty, who increase Vain gold, vain lore, and yet might choose our way Through many days they toil; then comes a day They die not,--never having lived,--but cease; And round their narrow lips the mould falls close.

II

Watch thou and fear; to-morrow thou shalt die.

Or art thou sure thou shalt have time for death?

Is not the day which G.o.d's word promiseth To come man knows not when? In yonder sky, Now while we speak, the sun speeds forth: can I Or thou a.s.sure him of his goal? G.o.d's breath Even at the moment haply quickeneth The air to a flame; till spirits, always nigh Though screened and hid, shall walk the daylight here.

And dost thou prate of all that man shall do?

Canst thou, who hast but plagues, presume to be Glad in his gladness that comes after thee?

Will _his_ strength slay _thy_ worm in h.e.l.l? Go to: Cover thy countenance, and watch, and fear.

Think thou and act; to-morrow thou shalt die.

Outstretched in the sun's warmth upon the sh.o.r.e, Thou say'st: 'Man's measured path is all gone o'er: Up all his years, steeply, with strain and sigh, Man clomb* until he touched the truth; and I, Even I, am he whom it was destined for.'

How should this be? Art thou then so much more Than they who sowed, that thou shouldst reap thereby?

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