Classic Poem

I

I said: " It is my due,
Weighed in the balance true
Wherewith God weighs the wages of His saints.
The soul hath her own pride,
Which will not be denied,
And spurns to beat at Heaven's gate,
Beggared and desperate,
Cringing for her own with cries and plaints.
Put finger on the flaw,
Show me the broken law,
The foot that slipped into the mire of flesh,
When did the world enmesh
Within its golden net
The pilgrim soul
Whose far invisible goal
Beyond the starry Galaxy was set?
Wherefore it is I spurn
That which I did not earn,
The dole flung to me of a God's mere grace,
And arbitrary favour of His face. "

A Voice behind me spoke;
Like a whole sea it broke,
And shook from pole to pole
The sureness of my steadfast soul:
" Yea, art thou so complete,
From poised head to conquering feet —
No soil of clay in all the golden frame,
No rift of sin, alloy of blame?
Thou boastest thou dost spurn
Whate'er thou didst not earn:
Then thou didst earn the I , the Me?
Whence came the eyes that see,
The mind behind the eyes,
The heart that flushes with surprise
Of joy at sunset and sunrise?
The sun, the moon, the stars,
The sea that beats behind its iron bars,
Alps over Alps,
Tossing their snowy scalps,
In wild confusion hurled,
Astrain to gaze across the margin of the world:
Say, didst thou earn these?
Poor fool! dost thou not feel
'Tis all of grace — great Nature's wheel,
The earth, the sky, the sea,
Thy very self, the I, the Me?
Now spurn
That which thou didst not earn! "

II

My pride with torn sail
Bore on against the gale:
" I yield the self — the I, the Me,
I yield the earth, the sky, the sea:
Divinest be the grace by which they came to be!
Yet, self and the world once given,
Why must the grace of Heaven,
Ungracious, grudge my little human meed?
At least, alone I stood,
Sucked not a brother's blood,
Nor hung upon another's gracious deed.
Wherefore, within the round
Of my own human bound,
I still do spurn
That which I did not earn. "

A sudden silence fell.
Then like a silver bell
Floated a music out of far off years —
A sweet remembered lullaby of smiles and tears,
Fond hopes and trembling fears.
And through the veil of music came
A voice that burnt my heart like flame:
" Ah me, so soon forgot!
Whose was the agony that gave thee life? —
A gift thou knewest not.
When thou didst lie upon her breast,
Say, didst thou earn that nest?

Was it as wages for work done
She fought with Death
Through the dark night till rise of sun,
To save thy failing breath,
And smiled to see her own wan face,
Since thine was ruddy with health's grace?
Did she once pause to ask,
Before she did her task:
" What has he done to merit this?
Has he deserved his mother's kiss?"
Ay, go and say to thy dead mother's face:
" I fling thee back thy grace;
I spurn
That which I did not earn!" "

III

A face smiled love across the years,
A dear hand beckoned white,
And grief broke in a mist of tears,
And the mist broke into light.
And yet my stubborn pride
Refused to be denied:
" Yea, that dear soul of grace
Smiles in a happy place:
Gladly I own the unrequited debt.
And yet, and yet —
What do I owe the general race of man,
The generations since the world began?
Wild blood and lawless mind,
And lusts that drive us like a restless wind,
Forever seeking what we shall not find.
I owe them nought;
What is there that I have not bought
With strength of hand and toil of thought?
Knowledge in her circle bright,
Beauty in her sevenfold light,
Prudence with her bit and rein.
Love that counteth loss her gain.
Once more I spurn
That which I did not earn. "
Then rose a Voice from out the dust:
" Hast thou forgot the memory of the just?
Dost thou not know
That in man's onward march
Every step with blood is wet?
Beneath the heaven's careless arch
Lives like water flow,
That the torn flag of Truth be set
But one ridge higher in a thousand years.
The Prophets are asunder sawn;
The Martvrs to the stake are drawn;
A thousand thousand soldiers die
To make a bridge to liberty.
Thy flower of life doth grow
In human dust, watered with human tears.
And thou, forsooth, dost spurn
Whate'er thou didst not earn!
Ah, when wilt thou have grace to learn
That all thy boasted good
Is bought with blood?
That all thy roots are sunk in grace,
The unremembered sorrows of thy race? —
A costly price, I trow,
To pay for such as thou! "

IV

Then rose my pride in wrath:
" 'Tis true: the upward path
Is o'er the broken hearts of men.
Their dearest hopes they flung away, and then
For us lay down to die.
But Thou, Most High,
Shared'st not the sacrifice!
Upon Thy throne of ice
Thou sat'st apart,
A God of ice, alone, without a heart.
" O rend the heavens and come down!"
Thou gav'st no answer to Thy prophet's cry,
The indifferent sky
Gave neither smile nor frown.
Ah God, my God, bethink Thee, was it right
To sit in silence on the height?
Did never wave of generous shame
Break o'er Thee and Thy throne,
To be in Love so far outdone
By things without a name? "

There fell a sudden hush,
As if in awe of the wild word,
And o'er the world a darkness crept,
And thro' the dark a sudden rush
Of unseen wings was heard.
Then the earth moaned as if it slept
Uneasily, and shuddered in its pain.
Some tragedy unseen
Throbbed like a breaking heart
Behind the awful screen.
Then did the distant edge of heaven dispart
In one long sword of light,
And from a crossbar bent a Head;
" My God, my God!" was said,
Dark drops fell down,
As from a thorny crown.

One flash, and Heaven and Earth did pass away;
In flowed the sevenfold day
That beats around the eternal throne.
Angels in wide array
Rank over rank in glory shone.
Upon the throne sat One,
A crown of thorns upon His bended Head,
His Hands had wounds yet red,
A spear had pierced His Heart.

Slowly He spread His Hands apart,
Slowly He lifted up His Head,
And looked at me. I saw His Eyes,
Ah me! those Eyes!