Statio Quarta

We have not seen the sun for many days,     But now through East-wind haze     He makes a shift     To send a luminous drift,     To which, as to his full unclouded splendour,     The meek, contented earth makes glad surrender.     God bless the simple earth     That gave me birth!     God bless her that she looks so pleased,     The soul thai is diseased     With this world's sorrow,     Well, sir? ought to look?     Beyond, and yet beyond: not in this narrow nook of His creation     Will God make up His book.     The whole is one great scheme of compensation     The net result     Is all . . . I too have had my dream,     As from my nonage dedicate a meustgx     Of that great cult.     I saw Lord Love upon his galley pass     Westward from Cyprus; smooth as glass     The sea was all before him. He, as keleustgx     Stood at the stern, and piped     The rhythms; but, ever and anon,     As worked upon     By some familiar Fury, grasping a scourge     (An amethyst     Fastened it to his wrist . . . Loves wrist!),     He ran along the transtra, and did urge     The rowers, and striped     Their backs with blood; whereat they leapt     Like maddened hounds, and swept     The sea until it hissed.     Then I: "Lord Love, what means this cruelty?"     But he to me     Deigned no reply:     Only I saw his face was wet with tears,     And he did look" beyond, and yet beyond."     But those men, fond     And fatuous, never turned     Their eyes from his, but yearned     With an insensate yearning, having confidence     That so it must be; but on what pretence     I know not, Ah, most cruel lord!     Ah, knotted cord!     Dull plashm     Of livid tissues! flash     Of oars that smote the waters to a hum . .     Come, come!     Youve had enough of this,     But what I meant, and what you seemed to miss,     Was simply how the meek, contented earth,     That gave me birth,     Was pleased . .     Then you of soul diseased,     And what not . . . excellent!     But that is what I meant.