Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/96

68 Through lonely lands, through cloudy seas and vext,—

At last the Holy Grail met Launfal's sight.

So when my friend lost him who was her next

Of soul,—life of her life,—all day the fight

Raged with a dumb and pitiless God. Perplext

She slept. Heaven sent its comfort in the night.

LIFE

I

Universe—what dost thou with thy dead!

Now thinking on the myriads that have gone

Into a seeming blank oblivion,

With here and there a most resplendent head,—

Eyes of such trancing sweetness, or so dread,

That made the soul to quake who looked thereon,—

All utterly wiped out, dismissed, and done;

Lost, speechless, viewless, and forever fled!

Myriad on myriad, past the power to count;—

Where are they, thou dumb Nature? Do they shine,

Released from separate life, in summer airs,

On moony seas, in dawns?—or up the stairs

Of spiritual being slowly mount

And by degrees grow more and more divine?

II

Ah, thou wilt never answer to our call,

Thou Voiceless One—naught in thee can be stirred,

What tho' the soul, like to a frightened bird,

Dash itself wildly 'gainst thy mountain-wall.

From Nature comes no answer, tho' we fall

In utmost anguish praying to be heard,

Or peer below, or our brave spirits gird

For steep and starry flight; 't is silent all.