Complement of human kind, O barren mound, thy plenties fill! Thou art silent and sedate. To myriad kinds and times one sense For which we all our lifetime grope, Seen haply from afar, Above the horizon's hoop, A moment, by the railway troop, As o'er some bolder height they speed,By circumspect ambition, By errant gain, By feasters and the frivolous, Recallest us, And makest sane. Mute orator! well skilled to plead, And send conviction without phrase, Thou dost supply The shortness of our days, And promise, on thy Founder's truth, Long morrow to this mortal youth. FABLE THE mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel; And the former called the latter "Little Prig." Bun replied, "You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together, To make up a year And I think it no disgrace If I'm not so large as you, I'll not deny you make Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; THE SNOW-STORM ANNOUNCED by all the trumpets of the sky, Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn; And when his hours are numbered, and the world BRAHMA IF the red slayer think he slays, Far or forgot to me is near; Shadow and sunlight are the same; They reckon ill who leave me out; When me they fly, I am the wings; And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. The strong gods pine for my abode, But thou, meek lover of the good! Find me, and turn thy back on heaven. THE SPHINX THE Sphinx is drowsy, Her wings are furled; Her ear is heavy, She broods on the world. "Who'll tell me my secret, The ages have kept? I waited the seer, While they slumbered and slept; "The fate of the man-child; The meaning of man; Known fruit of the unknown; Daedalian plan; Out of sleeping a waking, "Erect as a sunbeam, The thrush plies his wings: "The waves, unashamed, Firmly draw, firmly drive, By their animate poles. "Sea, earth, air, sound, silence, Night veileth the morning, "The babe by its mother Glide its hours uncounted,- Shines the peace of all being, And the sun of the world "But man crouches and blushes, He creepeth and peepeth, Jealous glancing around, "Out spoke the great mother, Beholding his fear;— At the sound of her accents Has turned the man-child's head?' I heard a poet answer Aloud and cheerfully, "Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges Are pleasant songs to me; Deep love lieth under These pictures of time; They fade in the light of Their meaning sublime. "The fiend that man harries Lit by rays from the Blest. |