MORAL : I So, Lady Flora, take my lay, The wildweed-flower that simply blows? And is there any moral shut Within the bosom of the rose? But any man that walks the mead, A meaning suited to his mind. And liberal applications lie In Art like Nature, dearest friend; So 'twere to cramp its use, if I Should hook it to some useful end. L'ENVOI I YOU shake your head. A random string To fall asleep with all one's friends; To pass with all our social ties To silence from the paths of men; And every hundred years to rise And learn the world, and sleep again; To sleep thro' terms of mighty wars, And wake on science grown to more, On secrets of the brain, the stars, As wild as aught of fairy lore; And all that else the years will show, The Poet-forms of stronger hours, The vast Republics that may grow, The Federations and the Powers; Titanic forces taking birth In divers seasons, divers climes; For we are Ancients of the earth, And in the morning of the times. II So sleeping, so aroused from sleep III Ah, yet would I-and would I might! That I might kiss those eyes awake! For, am I right or am I wrong, To choose your own you did not care; You'd have my moral from the song, And I will take my pleasure there; And, am I right or am I wrong, The prelude to some brighter world. IV For since the time when Adam first And every bird of Eden burst In carol, every bud to flower, What eyes, like thine, have waken'd hopes? The fulness of the pensive mind; That lets thee neither hear nor see: But break it. In the name of wife, Are clasp'd the moral of thy life, And that for which I care to live. EPILOGUE So, Lady Flora, take my lay, And, if you find a meaning there, To shape the song for your delight That float thro' Heaven, and cannot light? Or old-world trains, upheld at court By Cupid-boys of blooming hueBut take it-earnest wed with sport, And either sacred unto you. |