Ambergris

AMBERGRIS 19 Follow thou him ! Work ever, if thy heart Be fervent with one hope, thy brain with art, Thy lips with song, thine arm with strength to smite : Achieve some act ; its name shall not depart. Christ laid Love’s corner-stone, and Cæsar built The tower of glory ; Sappho’s life was spilt From fervent lips the torch of song to ignite : Thou mayst add yet a stone—if but thou wilt. And yet the days stream by ; night shakes the day From his pale throne of purple, to allay The tremors of the earth ; day smiteth dark With the swift poignard dipped in Helios ray. The days stream by ; with lips and cheeks grown pale On their indomitable breast we sail. There is a favouring wind ; our idle bark Lingers, we raise no silk to meet the gale. The bank slips by ; we gather not its fruit. We plant no seed, we irrigate no root True men have planted ; and the tare and thorn Spring to rank weedy vigour ; poisons shoot Into the overspreading foliage ; So as days darken into weary age The flowers are fewer ; the weeds are stronger born, And hands are grown too feeble to assuage Their venom ; then, the unutterable sea ! Is she green-cinctured with the earlier tree Of life ? Do blossoms blow, or weeds create A foul rank undergrowth of misery ? From the deep water of the bitterest brine Drowned children raise their arms ; their lips combine To force a shriek ; bid them go contemplate The cold philosophy of Zeno’s shrine ?