THE PHILOSOPHER
Enough of thought, philosopher!
Too long hast thou been
dreaming
Unlightened, in this chamber
drear,
While summer's sun is beaming!
Space-sweeping soul, what
sad refrain
Concludes thy musings once
again?
"Oh, for the time when I
shall sleep
Without identity.
And never care how rain
may steep,
Or snow may cover me!
No promised heaven, these
wild desires
Could all, or half fulfil;
No threatened hell, with
quenchless fires,
Subdue this quenchless will!"
"So said I, and still say
the same;
Still, to my death, will
say--
Three gods, within this
little frame,
Are warring night; and day;
Heaven could not hold them
all, and yet
They all are held in me;
And must be mine till I
forget
My present entity!
Oh, for the time, when in
my breast
Their struggles will be
o'er!
Oh, for the day, when I
shall rest,
And never suffer more!"
"I saw a spirit, standing,
man,Where thou dost stand--an hour ago,
And round his feet three
rivers ran,
Of equal depth, and equal
flow--
A golden stream--and one
like blood;
And one like sapphire seemed
to be;
But, where they joined their
triple flood
It tumbled in an inky sea
The spirit sent his dazzling
gaze
Down through that ocean's
gloomy night;
Then, kindling all, with
sudden blaze,
The glad deep sparkled wide
and bright--
White as the sun, far, far
more fair
Than its divided sources
were!"
"And even for that spirit,
seer,
I've watched and sought
my life-time long;
Sought him in heaven, hell,
earth, and air,
An endless search, and always
wrong.
Had I but seen his glorious
eye
ONCE light the clouds that
wilder me;
I ne'er had raised this
coward cry
To cease to think, and cease
to be;
I ne'er had called oblivion
blest,
Nor stretching eager hands
to death,
Implored to change for senseless
rest
This sentient soul, this
living breath--
Oh, let me die--that power
and will
Their cruel strife may close;
And conquered good, and
conquering ill
Be lost in one repose!" |