Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/81

 Do ye so thirst and hunger and aspire, Are ye so moved with such long strong desire In the ebb and flow of your sad life, and strive Still toward some end ye shall not see alive— But at high noon ye know it by light and heat Some half-hour, till ye feel the fresh tide beat Up round you, and at night's most bitter noon The ripples leave you naked to the moon? And this dim dusty heather that I tread, These half-born blossoms, born at once and dead, Sere brown as funeral cloths, and purple as pall, What if some life and grief be in them all? 'Ay, what of these? but, O strong sun! O sea! I bid not you, divine things! comfort me, I stand not up to match you in your sight Who hath said ye have mercy toward us, ye who have might? And though ye had mercy, I think I would not pray That ye should change your counsel or your way To make our life less bitter: if such power Be given the stars on one deciduous hour, And such might be in planets to destroy Grief and rebuild, and break and build up joy, What man would stretch forth hand on them to make Fate mutable, God foolish, for his sake? For if in life or death be aught of trust, And if some unseen just God or unjust Put soul into the body of natural things And in time's pauseless feet and worldwide wings