Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/80

 Should make a man's soul wholly break and die, Sapped as weak sand by water? How shall I Be less than all less things are that endure And strive and yield when time is? Nay, full sure All these and we are parts of one same end; And if through fire or water we twain tend To that sure life where both must be made one, If one we be, what matter? Thou, O sun, The face of God, if God thou be not—nay, What but God should I think thee, what should say, Seeing thee rerisen, but very God?—should I, I fool, rebuke thee sovereign in thy sky, The clouds dead round thee and the air alive, The winds that lighten and the waves that strive Toward this shore as to that beneath thy breath, Because in me my thoughts bear all towards death? O sun, that when we are dead wilt rise as bright, Air deepening up toward heaven, and nameless light, And heaven immeasurable, and faint clouds blown Between us and the lowest aerial zone And each least skirt of their imperial state— Forgive us that we held ourselves so great! What should I do to curse you? I indeed Am a thing meaner than this least wild weed That my foot bruises and I know not—yet Would not be mean enough for worms to fret Before their time and mine was. 'Ah, and ye Light washing weeds, blind waifs of dull blind sea,