Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/359

Rh But, no more, work as Adam. . nor as Leigh Erewhile, as if the only man on earth, Responsible for all the thistles blown And tigers couchant,—struggling in amaze Against disease and winter,—snarling on For ever, that the world’s not paradise. Oh cousin, let us be content, in work, To do the thing we can, and not presume To fret because it’s little. ’Twill employ Seven men, they say, to make a perfect pin! Who makes the head, content to miss the point,— Who makes the point, agreed to leave the join: And if a man should cry, ‘I want a pin, ‘And I must make it straightway, head and point,’— His wisdom is not worth the pin he wants. Seven men to a pin,—and not a man too much! Seven generations, haply, to this world, To right it visibly, a finger’s breadth, And mend its rents a little. Oh, to storm And say,—’This world here is intolerable; ‘I will not eat this corn, nor drink this wine, ‘Nor love this woman, flinging her my soul ‘Without a bond for’t, as a lover should, ‘Nor use the generous leave of happiness ‘As not too good for using generously’— (Since virtue kindles at the touch of joy, Like a man’s cheek laid on a woman’s hand; And God, who knows it, looks for quick returns From joys)!—to stand and claim to have a life Beyond the bounds of the individual man,