The Listening Sword
( WRITTEN ON THE EVE OF THE SPANISH WAR )
Still on the hilt, O Patience, keep thy hand!
Though in the sheath the uneasy sword may leap
That waits, and, for its waiting, cannot sleep.
For it doth envy Arthur's knightly brand
And each fame-wreathèd weapon, hero-manned,
That the world's freemen in remembrance keep.
Oh, how can steel be deaf when nations weep
With the loud sobbing of the desolate strand!
Are there who think, “The hilt hears, not the blade,
Snug in its silence”? Ah, from storms upcaught
Fall not too soon the lightnings of the Lord.
Justice, thou God in Man, when thou hast weighed
All in thy balance, show us what we ought.
Then, Patience, not till then, loose the appointed sword.
Still on the hilt, O Patience, keep thy hand!
Though in the sheath the uneasy sword may leap
That waits, and, for its waiting, cannot sleep.
For it doth envy Arthur's knightly brand
And each fame-wreathèd weapon, hero-manned,
That the world's freemen in remembrance keep.
Oh, how can steel be deaf when nations weep
With the loud sobbing of the desolate strand!
Are there who think, “The hilt hears, not the blade,
Snug in its silence”? Ah, from storms upcaught
Fall not too soon the lightnings of the Lord.
Justice, thou God in Man, when thou hast weighed
All in thy balance, show us what we ought.
Then, Patience, not till then, loose the appointed sword.
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