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 ?