Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/151

 For those indemnifying interludes That are to be the kernel in what lives To shrine him when the new-born men come singing. "So do I comprehend what I have read From even the squeezed items of account Which I have to my credit in that book Whereof the leaves are ages and the text Eternity. What do I care to-day For pages that have nothing? I have lived, And I have died, and I have lived again; And I am very comfortable. Yes, Though I look back through barren years enough To make me seem as I transmute myself In downward retrospect from what I am— As unproductive and as unconvinced Of living bread and the soul's eternal draught As a frog on a Passover-cake in a streamless desert,— Still do I trust the light that I have earned, And having earned, received. You shake your head, But do not say that you will shake it off. "Meanwhile I have the flowers and the grass, My brothers here the trees, and all July To make me joyous. Why do you shake your head? Why do you laugh?—because you are so young? Do you think if you laugh hard enough the truth Will go to sleep? Do you think of any couch Made soft enough to put the truth to sleep? Do you think there are no proper comedies But yours that have the fashion ? For example, Do you think that I forget, or shall forget, One friendless, fat, fantastic nondescript Who knew the ways of laughter on low roads,— A vagabond, a drunkard, and a sponge,