Change

Change is the order of the universe.     Worlds wax and wane; suns die and stars are born.     Two atoms of cosmic dust unite, cohere     And lo the building of a world begun.     On all things high or low, or great or small     Earth, ocean, mountain, mammoth, midge and man,     On mind and matter lo perpetual change     God's fiat stamped! The very bones of man     Change as he grows from infancy to age.     His loves, his hates, his tastes, his fancies, change.     His blood and brawn demand a change of food;     His mind as well: the sweetest harp of heaven     Were hateful if it played the selfsame tune     Forever, and the fairest flower that gems     The garden, if it bloomed throughout the year,     Would blush unsought. The most delicious fruits     Pall on our palate if we taste too oft,     And Hyblan honey turns to bitter gall.     Perpetual winter is a reign of gloom;     Perpetual summer hardly pleases more.     Behold the Esquimau the Hottentot:     This doomed to regions of perpetual ice,     And that to constant summer's heat and glow:     Inferior both, both gloomy and unblessed.     The home of happiness and plenty lies     Where autumn follows summer and the breath     Of spring melts into rills the winter's snows.     How gladly, after summer's blazing suns,     We hail the autumn frosts and autumn fruits:     How blithesome seems the fall of feathery snow     When winter comes with merry clang of bells:     And after winter's reign of ice and storm     How glad we hail the robins of the spring.     For God hath planted in the hearts of men     The love of change, and sown the seeds of change     In earth and air and sea and shoreless space.     Day follows night and night the dying day,     And every day and every hour is change;     From when on dewy hills the rising dawn     Sprinkles her mists of silver in the east,     Till in the west the golden dust up-wheels     Behind the chariot of the setting sun;     From when above the hills the evening star     Sparkles a diamond 'mong the grains of gold,     Until her last faint flicker on the sea.     The voices of the hoar and hurrying years     Cry from the silence "Change! perpetual Change!"     Man's heart responding throbs "Perpetual Change,"     And grinds like a mill-stone: wanting grists of change     It grinds and grinds upon its troubled self.     Behold the flowers that spring and bloom and fade.     Behold the blooming maid: the song of larks     Is in her warbling throat; the blue of heaven     Is in her eyes; her loosened tresses fall     A shower of gold on shoulders tinged with rose;     Her form a seraph's and her gladsome face     A benediction. Lo beneath her feet     The loving crocus bursts in sudden bloom.     Fawn-eyed and full of gentleness she moves     A sunbeam on the lawn. The hearts of men     Follow her footsteps. He whose sinewy arms     Might burst through bars of steel like bands of straw,     Caught in the net of her unloosened hair,     A helpless prisoner lies and loves his chains.     Blow, ye soft winds, from sandal-shaded isle,     And bring the mogra's breath and orange-bloom.     Fly, fleet-winged doves, to Ponce de Leon's spring,     And in your bills bring her the pearls of youth;     For lo the fingers of relentless Time     Weave threads of silver in among the gold,     And seam her face with pain and carking care,     Till, bent and bowed, the shriveled hands of Death     Reach from the welcome grave and draw her in.