Page:Captain Craig; a book of poems.djvu/77

Rh "There was a poet once who would have roared Away the world and had an end of stars. Where was he when I quoted him?—oh, yes: 'T is easy for a man to link loud words With woeful pomp and unschooled emphasis And add one thundered contribution more To the dirges of all-hollowness, I said; But here again I find the question set Before me, after turning books on books And looking soulward through man after man, If there indeed be more determining Play-service in remotely sounding down The world's one-sidedness. If I judge right, Your pounding protestations, echoing Their burden of unfraught futility, Surge back to mute forgetfulness at last And have a kind of sunny, sullen end, Like any cold north storm.—But there are few Still seas that have no life to profit them, And even in such currents of the mind As have no tide-rush to them, but are drowsed, Crude thoughts may dart in armor and upspring With a waking sound, when all is dim with peace, Like sturgeons in the twilight out of Lethe; And though they be discordant, hard, grotesque, And all unwelcome to the lethargy That you think means repose, you know as well