Classic Poem

Fond fancies, past the telling,
Come o'er me — idly spelling
The mystic meanings dwelling
In what these Hindoos taught;
So fast they rise — and faster,
That I bid them overmaster
Slow study; — and far past her
Carry my willing thought!

Carry my thoughts, confessing
Each dear and separate blessing
Ah! how beyond expressing
(Except with eyes, sweet wife!),
Each help, from Love's hid heaven,
That thy gentle soul has given
To a soul else overdriven
In the eager race of life.

Sweetheart! how dull beside them
Seems all that would outpride them
How weak, what may betide them
To bring to fall or fear
This joy to live together
In changeless summer weather!
No clouds to gloom or gather!
No seasons in our year!

Past all weak words the pleasure,
The luxury, the treasure,
Of knowing without measure
This fondness fully-grown;
So that love, no more careful,
Nor fanciful, nor fearful,
Takes — heart, and eye, and ear-full —
The love that is its own!

Let go old legends! sweeter
Than fruit of lotus-eater,
Diviner and completer,
Than Circe's anodyne;
To lessen sadness sent us,
And to double gladness lent us,
The true, unpressed nepenthos
Is true love's honey-wine!

Let go the pride of learning,
The foolishness of spurning
Life's life, for large discerning
Of vain philosophies!
" The highest truth lies nearest! "
'T was a Greek said it, Dearest!
Of sages the sincerest,
Gray old Pheidippides!

And let go that mad battle
Which tempts us, with its rattle
To join — like June-mad cattle,
In sinful strife for place!
The sin is not worth sinning;
The end mocks the beginning;
The only prize worth winning
Is ours, without the race!

Therefore, when fears do fret me,
Whenever wild winds threat me,
I fold my sails and get me
To the harbor of thy breast;
Safe there from outer riot,
Like a bird whom fierce hawks fly at,
Escaped, and brooding quiet
Down in his happy nest!