Page:Poems Barrett.djvu/284

A Rhapsody of Life's Progress.

"Fill all the stops of life with tuneful breath."
Poems on Man, by Cornelius Matthews^[1]

We are borne into life—it is sweet, it is strange!
We lie still on the knee of a mild Mystery,
      Which smiles with a change!
But we doubt not of changes, we know not of spaces;
The heavens seem as near as our own mother's face is,
And we think we could touch all the stars that we see;
And the milk of our mother is white on our mouth!
And, with small childish hands, we are turning around
The apple of Life which another has found:—
It is warm with our touch, not with sun of the south,
And we count, as we turn it, the red side for four—
        O Life, O Beyond,
   Thou art sweet, thou art strange evermore.

Then all things look strange in the pure golden æther:
We walk through the gardens with hands linked together,
   And the lilies look large as the trees;
And as loud as the birds, sing the bloom-loving bees,—
And the birds sing like angels, so mystical fine;
And the cedars are brushing the archangel's feet;
And time is eternity,—love is divine,
      And the world is complete!
Now, God bless the child,—father, mother, respond.
        O Life, O Beyond,
      Thou art strange, thou art sweet.

Then we leap on the earth with the armour of youth,
      And the earth rings again!
And we breathe out, "O beauty,"—we cry out, "O truth,"
And the bloom of our lips drops with wine;

1. A small volume, by an American poet—as remarkable, in thought and manner, for a vital sinewy vigour, as the right arm of Pathfinder.