SAID one,' Tis Use must lend
The clue our thoughts to bend
To the true end.'
Then I. ' But can your thought
Reach thus for ages sought,
The eternal 'Ought?' '
' Would not the martyr spurn
The truth you teach, to learn,
Rot, rather, burn ?'
' Were not death's self more sweet
Than to live incomplete
A life effete?'
Then he. ' But who shall hold
They grasped not over bold
Their faith of old,'
''Hoarding a random creed
For which they bore to bleed,
Not proved indeed ?'
' For who the truth shall seize
Grasps it by slow degrees,
Not snatched, as these.'
'And who would save his kind
Must spend, the clue to find,
Not heart, but mind.'
Then I. ' But mind alone,
Is dead as wood or stone,
Stirs naught and none.'
'And who with prying eyes
Will motive analyze,
For him it dies.'
'And all his hours remain
A barren, endless plain,
Not joy nor pain ;'
' A tideless, windless sea,
A blank eternity,
Still doomed to be.'
Then he. ' The Use we teach
All forms of being can reach,
Saves all by each.'
'No hasty glance or blind,
To passing goods confined,
Changeful as wind ;'
'But with a steadfast view,
Piercing the boundless blue
Up to the True.'
'Contented to efface
Self, if from out its place
Blossoms the race ;'
' If from lives crushed and wrecked,
A perfected effect,
Man stands erect.'
'To whom all pleasures show
An aspect mean and low
Beside to know.'
'Holding all other thought
Than which for this is sought
A thing of naught.'
' This seeking, nothing less,
What broader happiness
Most lives may bless ?'
Then I. 'If the desire
To which your thoughts aspire
Blazed forth afire ;'
' If all the task were done,
All stubborn contests won
Beneath the sun ;'
'If hope came not to cheer,
Nor bracing chill of fear,
Sweet sigh nor tear ;'
' But all the race should sleep
In a broad calm, too deep
For one to weep.'
'And o'er all lands should reign
A dull content inane,
Worse far than pain ;'
'If, all its griefs forgot,
Slowly the race should rot,
Fade and be not ;'
' Would not the thought oppress
The dream that once could bless,
With such distress,'
'That, from the too great strain,
Life withered, heart and brain,
Would rise in vain?'
Then he. ' The outcome this
Of all philosophies,
'Who seeks shall miss.''
' Who toil aright, for those
Life's pathway, ere it close,
Is as the rose.'
' The spires of wisdom stand,
Piled by the unconscious hand,
From grains of sand.'
'And pleasure comes unsought,
To those who take but thought
For that, they ought ;'
'A bloom, a perfume rare,
A deep-hid jewel fair
For those who dare.'
'So who the race aright
Loveth, a clearer sight
Shall yet requite ;'
'And, since he seeks it less,
An unsought happiness
His toil shall bless.'
Then I. ' 'Twere strange indeed
Should not our longing need
A clearer creed.'
'If only this were blest,
To ponder well how best
To serve the rest.'
'Since grows ; 'tis understood,
The happy multitude,
From each man's good,'
' From general sacrifice,
How should for each arise,
Content for sighs?'
' Or shall we deem it true
That who the road pursue
To gain the True,'
'May not the summit gain
By paths direct and plain
To heart and brain,'
' But with averted mind,
And sedulously blind,
The end must find ?'
'Is truth a masker, then,
Rejoiced to mock the ken
Of toiling men ?'
'Now tricked as Use, now Right,.
But always in despite
Of our poor sight.'
' Doth it not rather seem
We live, whate'er we deem,
As in a dream,'
'Acting, but acting still
The dictates to fulfil
Of a sure Will,'
'Seeing in Use and Right,
Twin rays indefinite
Of a great Light,'
' A mystic Sun and clear,
Which through mind's atmosphere
Can scarce appear,'
'But which not less we know ;
In all fair flowers that grow,
Loud storms that blow,'
' In noble thought and word,
In aspirations heard,
When hearts are stirred,'
' In every breathing breath,
Life that awakeneth,
Life that is death,'
'Whether serene it shine
Or clouds our view confine,
Wondrous, Divine?'
Then he. ' Shall this excuse
Him who a dream should choose
Rather than Use,'
' That he prefer to hold
Some dark abstraction old,
Remote and cold,'
' Some thin ghost, fancy-dressed,
Whereby men's souls oppressed,
Forfeit the best,'
' And for a dream neglect
What splendours of effect
Their lives had decked ?'
Then I. 'Though mind and brain
Wither and are in vain,
And thought a pain ;'
'Though sorrow, like a thief,
Follow to rob belief,
And faith be grief;'
'Though my obedience show
No fruit I here may know
Save utter woe ;'
'' Though health and strength decay ;
Yea, though the Truth shall slay,
I will obey.'
