Classic Poem

I

Suppose me dead; think of the man you made,
A moment, but as earth, unbreathing more,
His garments folded, and his reckoning paid
Of love, and faith, and fame; then, as before
A chronicle all done, with finis writ,
Ask if the man you made had truly been
More worth your pride and daily watching wit
Had fear of you one passage cancelled clean.

Would you not say, serenely gospelled then,
" I taught him faith, I bade his word be said
Fearing no challenge nor reproof of men;
And had the happy courage that I bred
Once brought me chill obedience for wage,
This chronicle had been a poorer page " ?

II

For, dear, I can but serve you at the rate
That is my heart's occasion, that is all;
If I deny myself and with you wait,
It is not I, however you may call;
Something of me must go, if I deny,
Though in denial shall be with you still
A body walking and a watchful eye,
The patient service of an impoverished will.

For if the love that loved, and chose, and came
Ever again to you, nor ever found
Estrangement in far absences, nor blame
For pilgrimage to other Edens bound,
Should know one beauty by your will denied,
Thenceforth how should old faith be satisfied?

III

But when you bid me go as beauty calls,
Knowing that my desire could follow none
But fair vocation, and that intervals
In honest love are still love's errands done,
When you upon my embarkation wait,
And cry, " O Keel! forth in pursuit of spring,
All Archipelagos to navigate,
You are my ship, and this your voyaging " —

Then nothing lets between your sovran pride
And all my kingdom, nor is poor pretence
That over all my fortunes you preside
When half my levies are rebellious pence;
Then do you govern that your craft began,
A man, and not the shadow of a man.