Exile - Part 8
I DA .
Stir not, brother, but watch the brown small bird
That stands here in the grass; note his clear eye,
See how he moves his lissome neck; and now
He flits upon the tree's swayed branch, and gazes;
There, he is gone, a brown speck in the air,
Cleaving his way as the slim fish the sea.
A LFRED .
Father, when shall we go into the town?
Is it your wish to have the boat made ready?
Father .
It is not time; I wish to stay awhile,
My book has yet some pages to be read,
And I am here so pleased with the cool peace
That I shall hardly care to go.
A LFRED .
Well, then,
May I go out alone?
Mother .
Pray, be content,
And sister soon shall go with you.
A LFRED .
This tires me;
You all have books, or Ida watches birds,
Or, stretched upon the grass, looks at the flowers.
I know not whither I may turn.
I DA .
Dear brother,
Look up into the sky. High overhead
The thick clouds seem asleep, but under them
Thin films, most white and pure, float on the wind,
And where the sunlight falls, they softly shine,
As if all through them flashed a sudden joy,
And they are lighted as a face with smiles.
A LFRED .
It is a pretty sight; the large clouds break,
And the thin shreds float on, showing the sky's
Pale blue through their faint woof.
I DA .
Come, play;
The little clouds will be our messengers,
And bear our thoughts away, what do you think?
A LFRED .
A silly game; but as I needs must stay,
'Twill do to pass the time.
Mother .
Now, that is sullen;
Besides the day grows hot, and on the water
The strong sun beats unhindered, save for the shades
The swift clouds throw.
A LFRED .
But in the boat 'tis cool;
For the large wind has play, and calms the heat.
I DA .
On with our game. I see a slender waif
Float on the wind like a white fairy skiff;
I bid it bear for me a beam of light
To fall upon a lady's finger-ring,
And call from sleep the fire and gold are there.
A LFRED .
I give that large white bark with back-blown pennon
A wind to hold, whence it will flutter loose
Against the small sail glittering far away,
That the swayed boat may skim the yielding waves
With speed to make one glad.
I DA .
Mamma, you speak;
You send the dearest wishes, and 'tis joy
To have you mix with us in play.
Mother .
I send
Upon that highest cloud a golden dream,
A dream that may come true, a dream of love,
That grows to bright reality — for whom?
For the pale stranger that you met and feared.
A LFRED .
Now, father, 'tis your turn.
Father .
If I shall play,
I send upon that swiftest cloud a Thought,
A Truth, that it may poise above the head
Of the pale student, flash through his tossed brain,
Lighting the white transparent face with flame,
And making clear the mystery he pursued
For weary years with swift discovery.
A LFRED .
I see afar a cloud with wings outspread
Quite like a bird; I hang upon its neck,
My carrier-pigeon's neck, an unseen missive,
That all the boys may learn of the wide world,
How glad it is to feel the wind and spray
Dash on your face when out far on the sea.
I DA .
I see a cloud all fervent with the sun,
Washed with the light, and sailing slow afar;
Into that downy nest I set a bird,
The bird of a sweet song, that will be borne
Back to our home, and there abide for us,
Till in the winter time it melts in tone,
And our rapt thoughts are carried back again
To this sweet shore, to this faint-sounding sea,
To the fair rose-glen just beyond the house,
To those bright flakes of fire upon the deep.
A LFRED .
Upon that great white ball I place a statue,
King-like and crowned; let him compel the nations
To hold our land in reverence.
I DA .
On the verge,
Where the horizon gray curves to the sea,
A thinnest vapor speeds; 'tis scarce a cloud,
And more like light slow-hardening; in its woof
I mix I know not what, a drop of soul,
That out of it a rain may fall on hearts
Fulfilled of pain, and they may quickly wake
As from a dream, and be mild-glad again.
A LFRED .
I have enough; father, read us a tale,
From the old book you were so glad to find,
And much surprised at yesterday, of how
The king went hunting through the enchanted wood,
And found his lady changed into a vine.
Mother .
A happy thought; we all are just in mood
To hear; and those rich Oriental plays
Need to be read when we, in tune with nature,
Feel not abrupt the change from daily mind
To that sublimed and mystic consciousness.
I DA .
I sit upon the grass next to mamma;
It is as well as going in the boat.
A LFRED .
'Twill do awhile; but I prefer to row,
And fight the wind, and cut right through the wave,
And know how strong I am.
Father .
I have the place;
Shall I go o'er the part we read last time?
Mother .
A pleasant thought; but lo! a stranger stands
At the path's turn, and is at point to come.
I DA .
I must into the house; for it is he,
And I yet fear to meet him.
A LFRED .
What foolishness!
You said you would be braver, and you blench
The first time you are tried; I mean to stay
And hear him speak.
Father .
No, children, get you in,
Or play in the green field behind the house;
We shall remain to build acquaintanceship.
I DA .
Come, brother, like the dear good boy you are;
I tremble when I see him. I will play
Any game that you like, come but with me.
The Stranger .
Your pardon if my suddenness offend,
And yet I deemed a fellow-townsman's right
Would fail not recognition.
Mother .
You are welcome,
Pray you be seated; it is a pleasant thing
To meet away from home co-dwellers there;
It gives a sense of shattered lonesomeness,
And strips the place of strangeness.
The Stranger .
Yet strangeness surely
Can have slight hold where friendship pitches tent,
And family cheer sets up abiding place.
Father .
We freely bid you be that cheer's partaker,
And it will give us joy if we have power
To make you feel at home, so be there's need.
The Stranger .
You make me welcome to far better home,
I deem, than the outer can build up; in books,
Where greatest minds have reared an unseen world,
That is unto the things we see as soul,
A nobler dwelling is, more permanent,
More native to our best capacities.
Father .
Into that realm you will be worthy guide;
Report that lives on lips of wisest men
Holds little error, and we know to you
That realm's each flower-lit glade, each greenest nook
Of ancient wood, its smooth white sands of shore,
Stray slopes of blossom-joy in mountain folds,
High table-lands that rule the unmeasured fields,
All places of deep thought, and those hid founts
Of feeling where to drink opes the soul's eyes
To occultest mysteries, are as good friends:
We shall have joy to tread upon your steps.
The Stranger .
Yet vague repute still speaks with too large sound;
For through the yielding air the spoke word spreads,
And reaches ear with loud reverberation,
As a weak king enpanoplied in gold,
And wearing reflex glow of retinue,
May seem a very Caesar.
Mother .
But the clear page
Whose magic letters hide a visible truth,
And are of might to fuse an alien soul
In noblest gladness, speaks more loud than fame
The sentences the latter utters.
The Stranger .
Be it so:
I dare belie not the deep work of years;
For I have trodden many paths of thought,
Pursued to their far haunts evanishing truths,
Found ways to disentangle thinnest woofs
Of the arch-worker, spirit, gazed upon
The elements wherefrom his world is made,
And watched him at his labors till I knew
Some deepest secrets of his handicraft,
And took his tools, and furthered his results.
But 'tis not of myself I mean to speak,
Forgive the self-love of a lonely man,
Who joins too little converse with his kind
To mould his speech to their accredited fashion.
Mother .
It always is our valued privilege
To step aside from the accustomed ways,
And with great sages meditate the world,
Not in its semblance, marvellous deceit,
But as it is to the opened eye of soul,
That visions not this realm of sense and time,
But the essential whole which is the life,
And in whose self-recurrent pulse all things,
All times, all histories, all human thoughts,
Are points of fact wherefrom it ever builds
Its mighty fabric — nay, I speak but ill,
Not it, buThe who is the Life of Life,
And Soul of Soul.
Father .
Go not into those depths;
The young day laughs, the gray clouds break away,
The sun points to the sea, a wealth of smiles,
And gives command with sweetest tyranny
To yield to it our wondrous molten souls,
Breaking in luminous ripples of fleet joys,
And ever-changing gleams of lightsomeness.
The Stranger .
A trip in yonder boat were not amiss;
Out to the central bay, afar from land,
In places where the many rarely come,
And the wide loneliness of sea and sky
Engulfs you in its clearness; underneath
The fluent waters, overhead the viewless air,
Away from all solidity, the soul —
A joy past earthly words subtly to frame —
Convinced of its eternity, and freed,
Or glad-forgetful, of its body-chains,
The world and all that is a fixed mere point,
Whereon it bird-like is light-poised awhile.
Mother .
Your words bring to my mind the poet's words —
His of the fiery soul, whose home was air,
And whose deep heart was torn with this world's woes
That reddened his fierce song's absolving flow;
You know the verses well: " I love all waste
And solitary places, where we taste
The pleasure of believing what we see
Is boundless as we wish our souls to be. "
Father .
That poet seems a favorite; strange to me,
For he is mainly read and loved of men.
The Stranger .
But in the realm of mind all severance dies,
There oneness dwells, no barren monotone,
But unit-life ensphering all diverse.
Surely in thought the man or woman dies.
And simple human reasserts itself.
Father .
I cry you mercy — for the noble day
Still bids me bathe in its circumfluous sea;
I would but breathe and be, so wonderful
The golden clearness governs me.
Mother .
And I
Would give you thanks; I care not overmuch
For those diversities our crude life frames,
And dwell by preference on those subtle hints
Of inner calm in whose mild atmosphere
All storms, absorbed as 'twere into the sun,
Yield place to grander forces.
The Stranger .
Hark! a laugh
Rings clear across the air — your child's, I doubt.
Father .
Our little girl's whom you perchance have seen.
The Stranger .
I met two children playing in the sand,
A strong, stout boy, of a courageous mien,
And masculine eye, that dared the total world,
Companioned by a golden-haired sweet girl,
On whose pure face pure dreams had left their glow,
In whose wide eyes sat an unspotted soul,
Looking in strangeness on this lower realm,
As troubled with some unacquaintanceship,
And yet at point to dower it with its love.
Mother .
Our children build a world within the world,
And we together are a spiritual isle,
Engirt by the wide sea of all mankind,
An individual happiness, indeed,
But drawing life from the universal soil.
The Stranger .
No doubt you have the secret; I have sought,
But cannot say, have found; I feel the feud;
In solitude the shapes of grandest thoughts
Float in pure light before mine inner eyes;
But on the rapture of high meditation
There supervenes a mighty loneliness;
And yet the world of men I shudder from,
And know not how to bear myself in it.
Father .
Perchance, love holds the key; forget oneself,
Bind life with other lives, and the wide sky
Is clear of clouds.
The Stranger .
I deem your words are true;
I would bestow my wealth's large sovereignties
On others; the power I grasp, so vast, so strong,
I am not apt to wield; no doubt young hands,
Made strong by will suffused of truest thought,
Might take the full nihility of wealth,
And bare the eternal statue lurking there.
Mother .
What better use of wealth than personal grace
Wrought in the soul by studious hold of books,
And making beautiful the transient spot
Wherein we dwell? Think you not so with me?
The Stranger .
Experience answers no. I would have one —
A child — a soul unharmed with life as yet —
To whom might fall the dower of perfect freedom;
She should have space to grow as grows a flower,
Fed by each wind full-freighted with God's stores,
Bathed in the light of his unceasing suns,
Taking from earth the best it has to give.
It were a task to soothe the approach of age,
And rob grim death of terror. I should live
In my sweet pupil.
Father .
For you not hard to find,
I deem.
Mother .
A pure desire well worth success.
The Stranger .
You have a child — a lovely golden girl —
And I — I might confer great benefits on her;
I am alone — I have not friends — but much —
Much else you know of — you are townsman mine.
Father .
Your words are difficult to understand.
You cannot mean — —
Mother .
You speak of our bright girl?
You would have her? take her from mother's side?
I cannot listen longer — let me go.
Father .
Sweet wife, be calm; here is some mystery;
I am not clear in what is said, nor you;
Explain yourself more fully, we would hear.
The Stranger .
Forgive — I cannot now — I will return.
I am so little used to converse — I will go —
Yet ponder you my words — it will be well.
She will be queen — nor of the world alone —
But reign in the white land of intellect,
A sovereign woman, marvel of her times,
A light to burn adown the dusky road
Along which move the ages newly risen,
A fire to inflame in all men's hearts to come
Fierce love of truth, and all that is the best,
Another virgin giving to these sad latter times
A spiritual birth of deepest thought and hope,
In whose unceasing current whoso bathes
Will be reborn in inmost soul — but lo!
I speak wild words, yet not words void of truth.
Forgive — consider all — for her behoof.
I will return.
Mother .
He is not right in mind;
I feel as I could weep — for him — for me —
I know not well. What meant his passioned words?
Tear from my side my little loving girl,
Who needs a mother's hand, a mother's heart,
Whose soul would flutter in his gilded cage
As some bird newly caught, pining for wood
And cool upbearing winds? I am not clear
I seize his sense.
Father .
Take peace unto yourself;
He has lived long alone, and knows not well
How men are linked together, hence his strangeness.
Pity for him I beg who has torn his roots
Out from the general soil, and so must bear
An alien's part within the unheeding world.
Stir not, brother, but watch the brown small bird
That stands here in the grass; note his clear eye,
See how he moves his lissome neck; and now
He flits upon the tree's swayed branch, and gazes;
There, he is gone, a brown speck in the air,
Cleaving his way as the slim fish the sea.
A LFRED .
Father, when shall we go into the town?
Is it your wish to have the boat made ready?
Father .
It is not time; I wish to stay awhile,
My book has yet some pages to be read,
And I am here so pleased with the cool peace
That I shall hardly care to go.
A LFRED .
Well, then,
May I go out alone?
Mother .
Pray, be content,
And sister soon shall go with you.
A LFRED .
This tires me;
You all have books, or Ida watches birds,
Or, stretched upon the grass, looks at the flowers.
I know not whither I may turn.
I DA .
Dear brother,
Look up into the sky. High overhead
The thick clouds seem asleep, but under them
Thin films, most white and pure, float on the wind,
And where the sunlight falls, they softly shine,
As if all through them flashed a sudden joy,
And they are lighted as a face with smiles.
A LFRED .
It is a pretty sight; the large clouds break,
And the thin shreds float on, showing the sky's
Pale blue through their faint woof.
I DA .
Come, play;
The little clouds will be our messengers,
And bear our thoughts away, what do you think?
A LFRED .
A silly game; but as I needs must stay,
'Twill do to pass the time.
Mother .
Now, that is sullen;
Besides the day grows hot, and on the water
The strong sun beats unhindered, save for the shades
The swift clouds throw.
A LFRED .
But in the boat 'tis cool;
For the large wind has play, and calms the heat.
I DA .
On with our game. I see a slender waif
Float on the wind like a white fairy skiff;
I bid it bear for me a beam of light
To fall upon a lady's finger-ring,
And call from sleep the fire and gold are there.
A LFRED .
I give that large white bark with back-blown pennon
A wind to hold, whence it will flutter loose
Against the small sail glittering far away,
That the swayed boat may skim the yielding waves
With speed to make one glad.
I DA .
Mamma, you speak;
You send the dearest wishes, and 'tis joy
To have you mix with us in play.
Mother .
I send
Upon that highest cloud a golden dream,
A dream that may come true, a dream of love,
That grows to bright reality — for whom?
For the pale stranger that you met and feared.
A LFRED .
Now, father, 'tis your turn.
Father .
If I shall play,
I send upon that swiftest cloud a Thought,
A Truth, that it may poise above the head
Of the pale student, flash through his tossed brain,
Lighting the white transparent face with flame,
And making clear the mystery he pursued
For weary years with swift discovery.
A LFRED .
I see afar a cloud with wings outspread
Quite like a bird; I hang upon its neck,
My carrier-pigeon's neck, an unseen missive,
That all the boys may learn of the wide world,
How glad it is to feel the wind and spray
Dash on your face when out far on the sea.
I DA .
I see a cloud all fervent with the sun,
Washed with the light, and sailing slow afar;
Into that downy nest I set a bird,
The bird of a sweet song, that will be borne
Back to our home, and there abide for us,
Till in the winter time it melts in tone,
And our rapt thoughts are carried back again
To this sweet shore, to this faint-sounding sea,
To the fair rose-glen just beyond the house,
To those bright flakes of fire upon the deep.
A LFRED .
Upon that great white ball I place a statue,
King-like and crowned; let him compel the nations
To hold our land in reverence.
I DA .
On the verge,
Where the horizon gray curves to the sea,
A thinnest vapor speeds; 'tis scarce a cloud,
And more like light slow-hardening; in its woof
I mix I know not what, a drop of soul,
That out of it a rain may fall on hearts
Fulfilled of pain, and they may quickly wake
As from a dream, and be mild-glad again.
A LFRED .
I have enough; father, read us a tale,
From the old book you were so glad to find,
And much surprised at yesterday, of how
The king went hunting through the enchanted wood,
And found his lady changed into a vine.
Mother .
A happy thought; we all are just in mood
To hear; and those rich Oriental plays
Need to be read when we, in tune with nature,
Feel not abrupt the change from daily mind
To that sublimed and mystic consciousness.
I DA .
I sit upon the grass next to mamma;
It is as well as going in the boat.
A LFRED .
'Twill do awhile; but I prefer to row,
And fight the wind, and cut right through the wave,
And know how strong I am.
Father .
I have the place;
Shall I go o'er the part we read last time?
Mother .
A pleasant thought; but lo! a stranger stands
At the path's turn, and is at point to come.
I DA .
I must into the house; for it is he,
And I yet fear to meet him.
A LFRED .
What foolishness!
You said you would be braver, and you blench
The first time you are tried; I mean to stay
And hear him speak.
Father .
No, children, get you in,
Or play in the green field behind the house;
We shall remain to build acquaintanceship.
I DA .
Come, brother, like the dear good boy you are;
I tremble when I see him. I will play
Any game that you like, come but with me.
The Stranger .
Your pardon if my suddenness offend,
And yet I deemed a fellow-townsman's right
Would fail not recognition.
Mother .
You are welcome,
Pray you be seated; it is a pleasant thing
To meet away from home co-dwellers there;
It gives a sense of shattered lonesomeness,
And strips the place of strangeness.
The Stranger .
Yet strangeness surely
Can have slight hold where friendship pitches tent,
And family cheer sets up abiding place.
Father .
We freely bid you be that cheer's partaker,
And it will give us joy if we have power
To make you feel at home, so be there's need.
The Stranger .
You make me welcome to far better home,
I deem, than the outer can build up; in books,
Where greatest minds have reared an unseen world,
That is unto the things we see as soul,
A nobler dwelling is, more permanent,
More native to our best capacities.
Father .
Into that realm you will be worthy guide;
Report that lives on lips of wisest men
Holds little error, and we know to you
That realm's each flower-lit glade, each greenest nook
Of ancient wood, its smooth white sands of shore,
Stray slopes of blossom-joy in mountain folds,
High table-lands that rule the unmeasured fields,
All places of deep thought, and those hid founts
Of feeling where to drink opes the soul's eyes
To occultest mysteries, are as good friends:
We shall have joy to tread upon your steps.
The Stranger .
Yet vague repute still speaks with too large sound;
For through the yielding air the spoke word spreads,
And reaches ear with loud reverberation,
As a weak king enpanoplied in gold,
And wearing reflex glow of retinue,
May seem a very Caesar.
Mother .
But the clear page
Whose magic letters hide a visible truth,
And are of might to fuse an alien soul
In noblest gladness, speaks more loud than fame
The sentences the latter utters.
The Stranger .
Be it so:
I dare belie not the deep work of years;
For I have trodden many paths of thought,
Pursued to their far haunts evanishing truths,
Found ways to disentangle thinnest woofs
Of the arch-worker, spirit, gazed upon
The elements wherefrom his world is made,
And watched him at his labors till I knew
Some deepest secrets of his handicraft,
And took his tools, and furthered his results.
But 'tis not of myself I mean to speak,
Forgive the self-love of a lonely man,
Who joins too little converse with his kind
To mould his speech to their accredited fashion.
Mother .
It always is our valued privilege
To step aside from the accustomed ways,
And with great sages meditate the world,
Not in its semblance, marvellous deceit,
But as it is to the opened eye of soul,
That visions not this realm of sense and time,
But the essential whole which is the life,
And in whose self-recurrent pulse all things,
All times, all histories, all human thoughts,
Are points of fact wherefrom it ever builds
Its mighty fabric — nay, I speak but ill,
Not it, buThe who is the Life of Life,
And Soul of Soul.
Father .
Go not into those depths;
The young day laughs, the gray clouds break away,
The sun points to the sea, a wealth of smiles,
And gives command with sweetest tyranny
To yield to it our wondrous molten souls,
Breaking in luminous ripples of fleet joys,
And ever-changing gleams of lightsomeness.
The Stranger .
A trip in yonder boat were not amiss;
Out to the central bay, afar from land,
In places where the many rarely come,
And the wide loneliness of sea and sky
Engulfs you in its clearness; underneath
The fluent waters, overhead the viewless air,
Away from all solidity, the soul —
A joy past earthly words subtly to frame —
Convinced of its eternity, and freed,
Or glad-forgetful, of its body-chains,
The world and all that is a fixed mere point,
Whereon it bird-like is light-poised awhile.
Mother .
Your words bring to my mind the poet's words —
His of the fiery soul, whose home was air,
And whose deep heart was torn with this world's woes
That reddened his fierce song's absolving flow;
You know the verses well: " I love all waste
And solitary places, where we taste
The pleasure of believing what we see
Is boundless as we wish our souls to be. "
Father .
That poet seems a favorite; strange to me,
For he is mainly read and loved of men.
The Stranger .
But in the realm of mind all severance dies,
There oneness dwells, no barren monotone,
But unit-life ensphering all diverse.
Surely in thought the man or woman dies.
And simple human reasserts itself.
Father .
I cry you mercy — for the noble day
Still bids me bathe in its circumfluous sea;
I would but breathe and be, so wonderful
The golden clearness governs me.
Mother .
And I
Would give you thanks; I care not overmuch
For those diversities our crude life frames,
And dwell by preference on those subtle hints
Of inner calm in whose mild atmosphere
All storms, absorbed as 'twere into the sun,
Yield place to grander forces.
The Stranger .
Hark! a laugh
Rings clear across the air — your child's, I doubt.
Father .
Our little girl's whom you perchance have seen.
The Stranger .
I met two children playing in the sand,
A strong, stout boy, of a courageous mien,
And masculine eye, that dared the total world,
Companioned by a golden-haired sweet girl,
On whose pure face pure dreams had left their glow,
In whose wide eyes sat an unspotted soul,
Looking in strangeness on this lower realm,
As troubled with some unacquaintanceship,
And yet at point to dower it with its love.
Mother .
Our children build a world within the world,
And we together are a spiritual isle,
Engirt by the wide sea of all mankind,
An individual happiness, indeed,
But drawing life from the universal soil.
The Stranger .
No doubt you have the secret; I have sought,
But cannot say, have found; I feel the feud;
In solitude the shapes of grandest thoughts
Float in pure light before mine inner eyes;
But on the rapture of high meditation
There supervenes a mighty loneliness;
And yet the world of men I shudder from,
And know not how to bear myself in it.
Father .
Perchance, love holds the key; forget oneself,
Bind life with other lives, and the wide sky
Is clear of clouds.
The Stranger .
I deem your words are true;
I would bestow my wealth's large sovereignties
On others; the power I grasp, so vast, so strong,
I am not apt to wield; no doubt young hands,
Made strong by will suffused of truest thought,
Might take the full nihility of wealth,
And bare the eternal statue lurking there.
Mother .
What better use of wealth than personal grace
Wrought in the soul by studious hold of books,
And making beautiful the transient spot
Wherein we dwell? Think you not so with me?
The Stranger .
Experience answers no. I would have one —
A child — a soul unharmed with life as yet —
To whom might fall the dower of perfect freedom;
She should have space to grow as grows a flower,
Fed by each wind full-freighted with God's stores,
Bathed in the light of his unceasing suns,
Taking from earth the best it has to give.
It were a task to soothe the approach of age,
And rob grim death of terror. I should live
In my sweet pupil.
Father .
For you not hard to find,
I deem.
Mother .
A pure desire well worth success.
The Stranger .
You have a child — a lovely golden girl —
And I — I might confer great benefits on her;
I am alone — I have not friends — but much —
Much else you know of — you are townsman mine.
Father .
Your words are difficult to understand.
You cannot mean — —
Mother .
You speak of our bright girl?
You would have her? take her from mother's side?
I cannot listen longer — let me go.
Father .
Sweet wife, be calm; here is some mystery;
I am not clear in what is said, nor you;
Explain yourself more fully, we would hear.
The Stranger .
Forgive — I cannot now — I will return.
I am so little used to converse — I will go —
Yet ponder you my words — it will be well.
She will be queen — nor of the world alone —
But reign in the white land of intellect,
A sovereign woman, marvel of her times,
A light to burn adown the dusky road
Along which move the ages newly risen,
A fire to inflame in all men's hearts to come
Fierce love of truth, and all that is the best,
Another virgin giving to these sad latter times
A spiritual birth of deepest thought and hope,
In whose unceasing current whoso bathes
Will be reborn in inmost soul — but lo!
I speak wild words, yet not words void of truth.
Forgive — consider all — for her behoof.
I will return.
Mother .
He is not right in mind;
I feel as I could weep — for him — for me —
I know not well. What meant his passioned words?
Tear from my side my little loving girl,
Who needs a mother's hand, a mother's heart,
Whose soul would flutter in his gilded cage
As some bird newly caught, pining for wood
And cool upbearing winds? I am not clear
I seize his sense.
Father .
Take peace unto yourself;
He has lived long alone, and knows not well
How men are linked together, hence his strangeness.
Pity for him I beg who has torn his roots
Out from the general soil, and so must bear
An alien's part within the unheeding world.
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