Entsagen

As One that gazes, starbound, on the sky,Heeds not a pageant passing in the street;As one swept onward with a favoring windRecks not of wild sea-treasures at his feet;

As one that walks in high, prophetic dreams,Forgets the throb of earth, and sense of pain;As conquerors tarry not to count their dead,Nor lovers weigh their losing in their gain:

So, teachest thou, the soul by God endowedWith lofty impulse, and poetic sweep,Bereft of all its earthly heritage,Should still disdain to struggle, or to weep;

Should not defend the prizes of the heartWith straining grasp, with agonizing tears,Nor, bruised and martyr'd, as aloud of GodIts ravished beauty, for the scar it wears.

Life hunts us blindfold, plucking at our hands,Mocking us on, eluding us with jeers;Breathless, we roll our darkened eyes for help,With heathen laughter ringing in our ears.

Thus we relinquish treasures of high trust,Thus, weakly cling where we should render up,When, with free sight and arm, 'twere scarcely hardTo seize and dash down the disputed cup.

But, friend, for such proud gesture one should wearA haughty forehead, kept by beetling brows,An eye that melts and quivers not, a lipThat hardens to the enmity it vows.

Oh! stood I thus enfranchised, long enoughTo gather up each wrecked and wronged delight,Commit them to th' abyss with holy words,Then, tearless, front the calm, eternal night!

And oh! my womanish heart—if this were done,I should but bend, with fixed and shaded eye,Follow the ghosts of parted happiness,Then, with wild tossing arms, plunge down and die.