Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/298

 And you must hold us in it or we die. Look at me now and say if what I say Be folly or not; for my unquiet head Is no conceit of mine. I had it first When I was born; and I shall have it with me Till my unquiet soul is on its way To be, I hope, where souls are quieter. So let the first and last activity Of what you say so often is your love Be always to remember that our lyres Are not strung for Today. On you it falls To keep them in accord here with each other, For you have wisdom, I have only sight For distant things and you. And you are Merlin. Poor wizard ! Vivian is your punishment For making kings of men who are not kings ; And you are mine, by the same reasoning, For living out of Time and out of tune With anything but you. No other man Could make me say so much of what I know( As I say now to you. And you are Merlin!" She looked up at him till his way was lost Again in the familiar wilderness Of night that love made for him in her eyes, And there he wandered as he said he would; He wandered also in his prison-yard, And, when he found her coming after him, Beguiled her with her own admonishing And frowned upon her with a fierce reproof That many a time in the old world outside Had set the mark of silence on strong men Whereat she laughed, not always wholly sure, Nor always wholly glad, that he who played So lightly was the wizard of her dreams :