Apologia



Is it thy will that I should wax and wane



Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey,



And a thy pleasure weave that web of pain



Whose brightest threads are each a wasted day?



Is it thy will-Love that I love so well-



That my Soul's House should be a tortured spot



Wherein, like evil paramours ,must dwell



The quenchless flame ,the woem that dieth not?



Nay,if it be thy will I shall endure,



And sell ambition at the common mart ,



And let dull failure be my vestiture,



And sorrow dig its grave within my heart.



Perchance it may be better so-at least



I have not made my heart a heart of stone,



Nor starved my girlhood of its goodly feast,



or walked where Beauty is a thing unknown.



Many a man hath done so ；sought to fence



In straitened bonds the soul that should be free,



Trodden the dusty road of common sense,



While all the forest sang of liberty,



Not marking how the spotted hawk in flinght



Passed on wide pinion through the lofty air,



To where some steep untrodden moutain height



Caught the ladt tresses of the Sun God's hair.



Or how the little flower be trod upon,



The daisy,that white-feathered shield of gold,



Followed with wistful eyes the wandering sun



Content if once its leaves were aureoled.



But surely it is something to have been



The best beloved for a little while ,



To have walked hand in hand with Love,and seen



His purple wings flit once across thy smile .



Ay! through the gorged asp of passion feed



On my girl'heart ,yet have I burst the bars,



Stood face to face with Beauty,known indeed



The Love which moves the Sun and all the stars!


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