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THE QUEST (4)
#1
THE QUEST

I

BLINDLY we seek through all the vernal years,
And mostly fail because we cannot see
The real behind the seeming entity ;
Blindly we seek, protected by no fears

Of sorrow and inevitable tears,
Should our mischoice disturb the harmony
That sings in love, as in the sunlit sea
The organ music of the shining spheres

Sings of divine attractions, that beget
Beauty for ever ; yea, we find and take,
And straightway all the agonies awake

To haunt our spirits with their ceaseless fret ;
Two lives that missed the bourne of love, must quake
For ever in the deserts of regret.



II

AND when we wake our souls have touched despair,
And reached the oozy bottom of the deep
Where dead hopes lie, as in a broken heap
The dreams of youth, that down the golden stair
Tumbled to ruin wholly past repair
Are gathered ; lo ! our eyes no longer weep
Such numbing cold is round our hearts to keep
The fountains hard however warm the air ;
And now we brace our limbs to swim away
Each from the other on the sundering waves,
But cannot, since we are old custom's slaves,
And marriage bonds we dare not thus essay
To break ; we hold together till death saves,
And only smile into the closing day.



III

THE woman pales, and the man glooms his brows,
And both are sad for something gone awry ;
Deep in their hearts, unseen by any eye
The mischief seethes ; and both regret their vows
On lonely pillows, when the silent house
Stands blindly dumb beneath the starry sky ;
The sobbing of their sorrow even cows
The callous fates, and though no uttered cry
Soul anguish bleeds in silence unto death
Calls out of dreams across the senseless dark
For pity and surcease of aching dole,
Pain goes into the air with every breath
Exhaled in sleep, and wild heart pulses mark
The poignant griefs that wring each wasted soul.



IV

PERCHANCE no one or both along the way
Will shine the face that should have crowned the quest
While yet the dawn was like a rosy crest
Upon the hills. Then will the soul obey
New-roused emotions by a vision blessed
With sudden light ? Then will the barren breast,
So long the home of stale indifference, play
Its part of love against the bitter sway
Of memories that hurt ? Will the found face
Smile life into the dull evasive eyes
And help the soul to doff her memories
That wore so long the mantle of disgrace ?
Or will " too late " be like a wall to rise
Full in the path which neither may displace ?
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