Chapter 36

SIGHT.

Before I got my eye put out, I liked as well to see As other creatures that have eyes, And know no other way.

But were it told to me, to-day, That I might have the sky For mine, I tell you that my heart Would split, for size of me.

The meadows mine, the mountains mine, — All forests, stintless stars, As much of noon as I could take Between my finite eyes.

The motions of the dipping birds, The lightning's jointed road, For mine to look at when I liked, — The news would strike me dead!

So safer, guess, with just my soul Upon the window-pane Where other creatures put their eyes, Incautious of the sun.

XXXVII.

Talk with prudence to a beggar Of 'Potosi' and the mines! Reverently to the hungry Of your viands and your wines!

Cautious, hint to any captive You have passed enfranchised feet! Anecdotes of air in dungeons Have sometimes proved deadly sweet!

XXXVIII.

THE PREACHER.

He preached upon "breadth" till it argued him narrow, — The broad are too broad to define; And of "truth" until it proclaimed him a liar, — The truth never flaunted a sign.

Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence As gold the pyrites would shun. What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus To meet so enabled a man!

XXXIX.

Good night! which put the candle out? A jealous zephyr, not a doubt. Ah! friend, you little knew How long at that celestial wick The angels labored diligent; Extinguished, now, for you!

It might have been the lighthouse spark Some sailor, rowing in the dark, Had importuned to see! It might have been the waning lamp That lit the drummer from the camp To purer reveille!

XL.

When I hoped I feared, Since I hoped I dared; Everywhere alone As a church remain; Spectre cannot harm, Serpent cannot charm; He deposes doom, Who hath suffered him.

XLI.

DEED.

A deed knocks first at thought, And then it knocks at will. That is the manufacturing spot, And will at home and well.

It then goes out an act, Or is entombed so still That only to the ear of God Its doom is audible.

XLII.

TIME'S LESSON.

Mine enemy is growing old, — I have at last revenge. The palate of the hate departs; If any would avenge, —

Let him be quick, the viand flits, It is a faded meat. Anger as soon as fed is dead; 'T is starving makes it fat.

XLIII.

REMORSE.

Remorse is memory awake, Her companies astir, — A presence of departed acts At window and at door.

It's past set down before the soul, And lighted with a match, Perusal to facilitate Of its condensed despatch.

Remorse is cureless, — the disease Not even God can heal; For 't is his institution, — The complement of hell.

XLIV.

THE SHELTER.

The body grows outside, — The more convenient way, — That if the spirit like to hide, Its temple stands alway

Ajar, secure, inviting; It never did betray The soul that asked its shelter In timid honesty.

XLV.

Undue significance a starving man attaches To food Far off; he sighs, and therefore hopeless, And therefore good.

Partaken, it relieves indeed, but proves us That spices fly In the receipt. It was the distance Was savory.