How Sin, amid the shades Cimmerian,
Repents, she points for sight: and she avers,
The hoofed half-angel in the Puritan
Nigh reads her when no brutish wrath deters.
Sin against immaturity, the sin
Of ravenous
excess, what deed divides
Man from
vitality; these bleed within;
Bleed in the crippled relic that abides.
Perpetually they bleed; a limb is lost,
A piece of life, the very spirit maimed.
But
culprit who the law of man has crossed
With Nature's dubiously within is blamed;
Despite our cry at cutting of the whip,
Our
shiver in the night when numbers frown,
We but
bewail a broken fellowship,
A sting, an
isolation, a fall'n crown.
Abject of sinners is that sensitive,
The flesh, amenable to stripes, miscalled
Incorrigible: such title do we give
To the poor shrinking stuff
wherewith we are walled;
And,
taking it for Nature, place in ban
Our Mother, as a Power wanton-willed,
The shame and baffler of the soul of man,
The recreant, reptilious. Do thou build
Thy mind on her foundations in earth's bed;
Behold man's mind the child of her keen rod,
For teaching how the wits and
passions wed
To rear that
temple of the credible God;
Sacred the letters of her laws, and plain,
Will shine, to guide thy feet and hold thee firm:
Then, as a
pathway through a field of grain,
Man's laws appear the blind
progressive worm,
That moves by touch, and
thrust of linking rings
The which to endow with
vision, lift from mud
To level of their nature's aims and springs,
Must those, the twain beside our vital flood,
Now on opposing banks, the twain at strife
(Whom the so rosy ferryman invites
To
junction, and mid-channel over Life,
Unmasked to the
ghostly, much
asunder smites)
Instruct in deeper than Convenience,
In higher than the
harvest of a year.
Only the rooted knowledge to high sense
Of
heavenly can mount, and feel the spur
For fruitfullest
advancement, eye a mark
Beyond the path with grain on either hand,
Help to the steering of our social Ark
Over the
barbarous waters unto land.
For us the double
conscience and its war,
The serving of two masters, false to both,
Until those twain, who spring the root and are
The knowledge in di
vision,
plight a troth
Of equal hands: nor longer circulate
A pious token for their current coin,
To growl at the exchange; they, mate and mate,
Fair
feminine and
masculine shall join
Upon an upper plane, still common mould,
Where stamped religion and reflective pace
A statelier
measure, and the hoop of gold
Rounds to
horizon for their soul's embrace.
Then shall those noblest of the earth and sun
Inmix
unlike to waves on
savage sea.
But not till Nature's laws and man's are one,
Can marriage of the man and woman be.
V
He passed her through the sermon's dull defile.
Down under billowy vapour-gorges heaved
The city and the vale and mountain-pile.
She felt strange push of shuttle-threads that weaved.
A new land in an old beneath her lay;
And forth to meet it did her spirit rush,
As bride who without shame has come to say,
Husband, in his dear face that caused her blush.