| “CURSE thee, Life, I will live with thee no more! | |
| Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore! | |
| And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me, | |
| I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparingly | |
| That I might eat again, and met thy sneers | 5 |
| With deprecations, and thy blows with tears,— | |
| Aye, from thy glutted lash, glad, crawled away, | |
| As if spent passion were a holiday! | |
| And now I go. Nor threat, nor easy vow | |
| Of tardy kindness can avail thee now | 10 |
| With me, whence fear and faith alike are flown; | |
| Lonely I came, and I depart alone, | |
| And know not where nor unto whom I go; | |
| But that thou canst not follow me I know.” | |
|
| Thus I to Life, and ceased; but through my brain | 15 |
| My thought ran still, until I spake again: | |
|
| “Ah, but I go not as I came,—no trace | |
| Is mine to bear away of that old grace | |
| I brought! I have been heated in thy fires, | |
| Bent by thy hands, fashioned to thy desires, | 20 |
| Thy mark is on me! I am not the same | |
| Nor ever more shall be, as when I came. | |
| Ashes am I of all that once I seemed. | |
| In me all’s sunk that leapt, and all that dreamed | |
| Is wakeful for alarm,—oh, shame to thee, | 25 |
| For the ill change that thou hast wrought in me, | |
| Who laugh no more nor lift my throat to sing! | |
| Ah, life, I would have been a pleasant thing | |
| To have about the house when I was grown | |
| If thou hadst left my little joys alone! | 30 |
| I asked of thee no favor save this one: | |
| That thou wouldst leave me playing in the sun! | |
| And this thou didst deny, calling my name | |
| Insistently, until I rose and came. | |
| I saw the sun no more.—It were not well | 35 |
| So long on these unpleasant thoughts to dwell, | |
| Need I arise to-morrow and renew | |
| Again my hated tasks, but I am through | |
| With all things save my thoughts and this one night, | |
| So that in truth I seem already quite | 40 |
| Free and remote from thee,—I feel no haste | |
| And no reluctance to depart; I taste | |
| Merely, with thoughtful mien, an unknown draught, | |
| That in a little while I shall have quaffed.” | |
|
| Thus I to Life, and ceased, and slightly smiled, | 45 |
| Looking at nothing; and my thin dreams filed | |
| Before me one by one till once again | |
| I set new words unto an old refrain: | |
|
| “Treasures thou hast that never have been mine! | |
| Warm lights in many a secret chamber shine | 50 |
| Of thy gaunt house, and gusts of song have blown | |
| Like blossoms out to me that sat alone! | |
| And I have waited well for thee to show | |
| If any share were mine,—and now I go! | |
| Nothing I leave, and if I naught attain | 55 |
| I shall but come into mine own again!” | |
| Thus I to Life, and ceased, and spake no more, | |
| But turning, straightway, sought a certain door | |
| In the rear wall. Heavy it was, and low | |
| And dark,—a way by which none e’er would go | 60 |
| That other exit had, and never knock | |
| Was heard thereat,—bearing a curious lock | |
| Some chance had shown me fashioned faultily, | |
| Whereof Life held content the useless key, | |
| And great coarse hinges, thick and rough with rust, | 65 |
| Whose sudden voice across a silence must, | |
| I knew, be harsh and horrible to hear,— | |
| A strange door, ugly like a dwarf.—So near | |
| I came I felt upon my feet the chill | |
| Of acid wind creeping across the sill. | 70 |
| So stood longtime, till over me at last | |
| Came weariness, and all things other passed | |
| To make it room; the still night drifted deep | |
| Like snow about me, and I longed for sleep. | |
|
| But, suddenly, marking the morning hour, | 75 |
| Bayed the deep-throated bell within the tower! | |
| Startled, I raised my head,—and with a shout | |
Laid hold upon the latch,—and was without.
. . . . . . | |
|
| Ah, long-forgotten, well-remembered road, | |
| Leading me back unto my old abode, | 80 |
| My father’s house! There in the night I came, | |
| And found them feasting, and all things the same | |
| As they had been before. A splendour hung | |
| Upon the walls, and such sweet songs were sung | |
| As, echoing out of very long ago, | 85 |
| Had called me from the house of Life, I know. | |
| So fair their raiment shone I looked in shame | |
| On the unlovely garb in which I came; | |
| Then straightway at my hesitancy mocked: | |
| “It is my father’s house!” I said and knocked; | 90 |
| And the door opened. To the shining crowd | |
| Tattered and dark I entered, like a cloud, | |
| Seeing no face but his; to him I crept, | |
| And “Father!” I cried, and clasped his knees, and wept. | |
| Ah, days of joy that followed! All alone | 95 |
| I wandered through the house. My own, my own, | |
| My own to touch, my own to taste and smell, | |
| All I had lacked so long and loved so well! | |
| None shook me out of sleep, nor hushed my song, | |
| Nor called me in from the sunlight all day long. | 100 |
|
| I know not when the wonder came to me | |
| Of what my father’s business might be, | |
| And whither fared and on what errands bent | |
| The tall and gracious messengers he sent. | |
| Yet one day with no song from dawn till night | 105 |
| Wondering, I sat, and watched them out of sight. | |
| And the next day I called; and on the third | |
| Asked them if I might go,—but no one heard. | |
| Then, sick with longing, I arose at last | |
| And went unto my father,—in that vast | 110 |
| Chamber wherein he for so many years | |
| Has sat, surrounded by his charts and spheres. | |
| “Father,” I said, “Father, I cannot play | |
| The harp that thou didst give me, and all day | |
| I sit in idleness, while to and fro | 115 |
| About me thy serene, grave servants go; | |
| And I am weary of my lonely ease. | |
| Better a perilous journey overseas | |
| Away from thee, than this, the life I lead, | |
| To sit all day in the sunshine like a weed | 120 |
| That grows to naught,—I love thee more than they | |
| Who serve thee most; yet serve thee in no way. | |
| Father, I beg of thee a little task | |
| To dignify my days,—’tis all I ask | |
| Forever, but forever, this denied, | 125 |
I perish.”
“Child,” my father’s voice replied, | |
| “All things thy fancy hath desired of me | |
| Thou hast received. I have prepared for thee | |
| Within my house a spacious chamber, where | |
| Are delicate things to handle and to wear, | 130 |
| And all these things are thine. Dost thou love song? | |
| My minstrels shall attend thee all day long. | |
| Or sigh for flowers? My fairest gardens stand | |
| Open as fields to thee on every hand. | |
| And all thy days this word shall hold the same: | 135 |
| No pleasure shalt thou lack that thou shalt name. | |
| But as for tasks—” he smiled, and shook his head; | |
| “Thou hadst thy task, and laidst it by,” he said. |
