Two Moods

Ah, blame him not because he’s gay! That he should smile, and jest, and play But shows how lightly he can bear, How well forget that load which, where Thought is, is with it, and howe’er Dissembled, or indeed forgot, Still is a load, and ceases not. This aged earth that each new spring Comes forth so young, so ravishing In summer robes for all to see, Of flower, and leaf, and bloomy tree, For all her scarlet, gold, and green, Fails not to keep within unseen That inner purpose and that force Which on the untiring orbit’s course Around the sun, amidst the spheres Still bears her thro’ the eternal years. Ah, blame the flowers and fruits of May, And then blame him because he’s gay.

Ah, blame him not, for not being gay, Because an hundred times a day He doth not currently repay Sweet words with ready words as sweet, And for each smile a smile repeat. To mute submissiveness confined, Blame not, if once or twice the mind Its pent-up indignation wreak In scowling brow and flushing cheek, And smiles curled back as soon as born, To dire significance of scorn. Nor blame if once, and once again He wring the hearts of milder men, If slights, the worse if undesigned, Should seem unbrotherly, unkind; For though tree wave, and blossom blow Above, earth hides a fire below; Her seas the starry laws obey, And she from her own ordered way, Swerves not, because it dims the day Or changes verdure to decay. Ah, blame the great world on its way, And then blame him for not being gay.