Ambergris

18 AMBERGRIS Remember him, but smite ! No workman hews His stone aright whose nerve arms refuse To ply the chisel, but are raised to ask A visionary foreman he may choose From the distortions of a sodden mind. God did first work on earth when womankind He chipped from Adam’s rib—a thankless task I wot his wisdom has long since repined. Christ touched the leper and the widow’s son ; And thou wouldst serve the work the Perfect One Began, by folding arms and gazing up To heaven, as if thy work were rightly done. I tell thee, he should say, if ye were met : “ Thou hadst a talent ”—ah, thou hast it yet Wrapped in a napkin ! thou shalt drain the cup Of that damnation that may not forget “ The wasted hours ! ” Ah, bitter interest Of our youth’s capital forgotten zest In all the pleasures of o’erflowing life, Wine tasteless, tired the brain, and cold the breast ! Ah ! but if with it is one good deed wrought, One kind word spoken, one immortal thought Born in thee, all is paid : the weary strife Grows victory. “ Love is all and Death is nought ! ” Such an one wrote that work as I would meet, Lay my life’s burden at his silver feet, Have him give ear if I say Master. Yea ! I know no heaven, no honour, half so sweet ! He passed before me on the wheel of Time, He who knows no Time—the intense sublime Master of all philosophy and play, Lord of all love and music and sweet rime.