Page:Captain Craig; a book of poems.djvu/19

Rh "First, would I have you know, for every gift Or sacrifice, there are—or there may be— Two kinds of gratitude: the sudden kind We feel for what we take, the slower kind We feel for what we give. Once we have learned As much as this, we know the truth has been Told over to the world a thousand times;— But we have had no ears to listen yet For more than fragments of it: we have heard A murmur now and then, an echo here And there, and we have made great music of it; And we have made innumerable books To please the Unknown God. Time throws away Dead thousands of them, but the God that knows No death denies not one: the books all count, The songs all count; and yet God's music has No modes, his language has no adjectives."

"You may be right, you may be wrong," said I; "But what has all of this that you say now— This nineteenth-century Nirvana-talk— To do with you and me?" The Captain raised His hand and held it westward, where a patched And unwashed attic-window filtered in