I bow me to the threatening gale:
I know when that is overpast,
Among the peaceful harvest days,
An Indian Summer comes at last!
Adeline D. T. Whitney [1824-1906]

"BEFORE THE BEGINNING OF YEARS"

From "Atalanta in Calydon"

BEFORE the beginning of years,

There came to the making of man

Time, with a gift of tears;

Grief, with a glass that ran;

Pleasure, with pain for leaven;
Summer, with flowers that fell;
Remembrance, fallen from heaven;
And madness, risen from hell;
Strength, without hands to smite;
Love, that endures for a breath;
Night, the shadow of light;

And life, the shadow of death.

And the high gods took in hand

Fire, and the falling of tears,
And a measure of sliding sand

From under the feet of the years;

And froth and drift of the sea;

And dust of the laboring earth;

And bodies of things to be

In the houses of death and of birth;
And wrought with weeping and laughter,

And fashioned with loathing and love,

With life before and after,

And death beneath and above,

For a day and a night and a morrow,

That his strength might endure for a span,

With travail and heavy sorrow,

The holy spirit of man.

Man

From the winds of the north and the south

They gathered as unto strife;
They breathed upon his mouth,

They filled his body with life;
Eyesight and speech they wrought
For the veils of the soul therein,
A time for labor and thought,

A time to serve and to sin;
They gave him light in his ways,

And love, and a space for delight,
And beauty and length of days,

And night, and sieep in the night.
His speech is a burning fire;
With his lips he travaileth;

In his heart is a blind desire,

In his eyes foreknowledge of death;
He weaves, and is clothed with derision'

Sows, and he shall not reap;

His life is a watch or a vision

Between a sleep and a sleep.

355

Algernon Charles Swinburne [1837-1909]

MAN

WEIGHING the steadfastness and state

Of some mean things which here below reside,
Where birds, like watchful clocks, the noiseless date
And intercourse of times divide,

Where bees at night get home and hive, and flowers,
Early as well as late,

Rise with the sun, and set in the same bowers;

I would, said I, my God would give
The staidness of these things to man! for these
To His divine appointments ever cleave,

And no new business breaks their peace;
The birds nor sow nor reap, yet sup and dine,
The flowers without clothes live,

Yet Solomon was never dressed so fine.

Man hath still either toys, or care;

He hath no root, nor to one place is tied,
But ever restless and irregular

About this earth doth run and ride;

He knows he hath a home, but scarce knows where; He says it is so far,

That he hath quite forgot how to go there.

He knocks at all doors, strays and roams;

Nay, hath not so much wit as some stones have,
Which in the darkest nights point to their homes
By some hid sense their Maker gave;
Man is the shuttle, to whose winding quest
And passage through these looms

God ordered motion, but ordained no rest.

Henry Vaughan [1622–1695]

THE PULLEY

WHEN God at first made Man,

Having a glass of blessings standing by-
Let us (said He) pour on him all we can;
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie,
Contract into a span.

So strength first made a way,

Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honor, pleasure:
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that, alone of all His treasure,
Rest in the bottom lay.

For if I should (said He)

Bestow this jewel also on My creature,
He would adore My gifts instead of Me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature:
So both should losers be.

Yet let him keep the rest,

But keep them with repining restlessness;
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to My breast.

George Herbert [1593-1633]

Ode on the Intimations of Immortality 357

ODE ON THE INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD

I

THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem

Apparelled in celestial light,

The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;-
Turn wheresoe'er I may,

By night or day,

The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

II

The Rainbow comes and goes,

And lovely is the Rose;

The Moon doth with delight

Look round her when the heavens are bare;

Waters on a starry night

Are beautiful and fair;

The sunshine is a glorious birth;

But yet I know, where'er I go,

That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.

III

Now, while the Birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young Lambs bound

As to the tabor's sound,

To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong.

The Cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep:
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,
The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,

And all the earth is gay;

Land and Sea

Give themselves up to jollity,

And with the heart of May

Doth every Beast keep holiday;

Thou Child of Joy,

Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy!

IV

Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see

The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,

My head hath its coronal,

The fulness of your bliss, I feel-I feel it all.
O evil day! if I were sullen

While Earth herself is adorning

This sweet May morning,

And the Children are culling

On every side,

In a thousand valleys far and wide,

Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:-
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!

-But there's a Tree, of many, one,

A single Field which I have looked upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The Pansy at my feet

Doth the same tale repeat:

Whither is fled the visionary gleam?

Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

V

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:

The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,