Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/137

 Whether or not, securely closeted Up there in the stived haven of his den, The man sat laughing at me; and I felt My teeth grind hard together with a quaint Revulsion—as I recognize it now— Not only for my Captain, but as well For every smug-faced failure on God's earth; Albeit I could swear, at the same time, That there were tears in the old fellow's eyes. I question if in tremors or in tears There be more guidance to man's worthiness Than—well, say in his prayers. But oftentimes It humors us to think that we possess By some divine adjustment of our own Particular shrewd cells, or something else, What others, for untutored sympathy, Go spirit-fishing more than half their lives To catch—like cheerful sinners to catch faith; And I have not a doubt but I assumed Some egotistic attribute like this When, cautiously, next, morning I reduced The fretful qualms of my novitiate, For most part, to an undigested pride. Only, I live convinced that I regret This enterprise no more than I regret My life; and I am glad that I was born. That evening, at "The Chrysalis," I found The faces of my comrades all suffused With what I chose then to denominate Superfluous good feeling. In return, They loaded me with titles of odd form And unexemplified significance, Like "Bellows-mender to Prince Æolus,"