  decorative WHEN dark thy childhood, tears and grief have filled Thy swelling heart, that understood too much, Yet not enough to be forgiving, when The sun was pale, and darkness lonely, when The fear of unknown evil made thy lips Turn cold, and wonder changed to horror, then To dumb despair, to childhood's hopelessness, More hopeless than old age's iron clutch Of unbelief, the shadow of the past Will cast a pall o'er all thy life, then say: When work was hard and sacrifice in vain, And stones were hurled at thee, thy flowers trodden Into the soil, that, soaked with all thy blood, Could not resist, and giving way would swallow Thy noblest thoughts, and teach thee to undo Thyself, gainsay thyself, as if a coward Were crouching on thy shoulders, making thee Believe that all thy heroism was A sham—then say: Go down to Lethe, Thought, And darken not the hour when I rise Out of myself, out of the past, into The open day of wide forgetfulness. When shame has crept into the rocky strength, Into the pure recess a spotless soul Had lent thee, and with fiery coals has burnt A mark no rivers wash away, no winds Like snakes of cold disgust, then say again: Go down to Lethe, not to rise and sting. But when those eyes, that were thy sun, are shut, When blind with tears thy gaze hath yet behold The angel wings that carried through unknown Untold of space thy life, thy heart, thy hope— No Lethe then! And no forgetfulness! But open wide thy soul: It is the sun, The sun that sends its beauteous rays into The dark, into the cold, into the night And terror of thy life. If grief hath ploughed The soil, fear not! The corn is rising, young And green and full of hope; the sun hath called; The sun shines full into that heart that was So torn, so weak, that could not lift itself Flooded with light; take not thine eyes away, Bend not thy look unto the earth again, But rise on shining wings toward the rays That draw thee, call thee, bear thee to the light! |
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