He dwelt unblinded with eternal truth, Through long communion perfected, not once Did he misdeem the prelude for the song, And looking onward, to his ample view That long to-come when he should be no more Outweighed the moment of his passing here. And he was happy, and his peace was full, Having outlived the struggle—not as those Who take the world on faith, and rest content With the old verdicts, question, wonder not, But feeling trusting loving are at peace. He sought and found one little germ of truth, Made pure his spirit of all chance and change, Held fast on things abiding, learned to stand On ever loftier summits-till at last TI is brow grew starry and his searching eyes Blue with the mirrored distance, and he heard The everlasting music, Time and space Were part with every heart-beat, and almost What need for him of all your wonder world? He made the wonder visible—enough This little handful of the common clay A seed to sow therein, and then to watch The hidden forces quicken into life, Till leaf by leaf some flower-star unfolds, One flower of all the flowers, because the sun Is in the skies, one sun of all the suns. Search but the structure of one daisy’s heart Your lore has no such miracle as this!— And look at all the infinite device, The texture of the leaves of all the trees— Is there not marvel here enough? And yet Ye crave new signs and wonders to convince And wander lost upon your devious ways. Ye will but gaze upon a part, and grow In little wisdom overwise, therefore Your partial grasp is barren to conceive The thought Infinity, Time wilders yet Because ye measure with your finite gauge, And Motion maddens through your own unrest. He let the world go gladly, hand in hand He walked with Reason, till thought strained away A bridge to span from sun to sun of all The starry systems;—like a faint far dream The changing pageant of men’s lives unrolled, And he stood by serenely,—but with him The calm was struggle in a lordlier way, Absorbed and dwelling with eternal truth, Whose star o’ershone him; till it seemed that life And death were one, and from the throbbing brow The craving died away,—and now he rests With that fair choir from many times whose souls Have earned the right of knowledge after death. |