Poems by Ralph Waldo Emerson Part 35

MAIA

Illusion works impenetrable, Weaving webs innumerable, Her gay pictures never fail, Crowds each on other, veil on veil, Charmer who will be believed By man who thirsts to be deceived.

Illusions like the tints of pearl, Or changing colors of the sky, Or ribbons of a dancing girl That mend her beauty to the eye.

The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth And the poor spinners weave their webs thereon To share the sunshine that so spicy is.

Samson stark, at Dagon's knee, Gropes for columns strong as he; When his ringlets grew and curled, Groped for axle of the world.

But Nature whistled with all her winds, Did as she pleased and went her way.

LIFE

A train of gay and clouded days Dappled with joy and grief and praise, Beauty to fire us, saints to save, Escort us to a little grave.

No fate, save by the victim's fault, is low, For G.o.d hath writ all dooms magnificent, So guilt not traverses his tender will.

Around the man who seeks a n.o.ble end, Not angels but divinities attend.

From high to higher forces The scale of power uprears, The heroes on their horses, The G.o.ds upon their spheres.

This shining moment is an edifice Which the Omnipotent cannot rebuild.

Roomy Eternity Casts her schemes rarely, And an aeon allows For each quality and part Of the mult.i.tudinous And many-chambered heart.

The beggar begs by G.o.d's command, And gifts awake when givers sleep, Swords cannot cut the giving hand Nor stab the love that orphans keep.

In the chamber, on the stairs, Lurking dumb, Go and come Lemurs and Lars.

Such another peerless queen Only could her mirror show.

Easy to match what others do, Perform the feat as well as they; Hard to out-do the brave, the true, And find a loftier way: The school decays, the learning spoils Because of the sons of wine; How s.n.a.t.c.h the stripling from their toils?-- Yet can one ray of truth divine The blaze of revellers' feasts outshine.

Of all wit's uses the main one Is to live well with who has none.

The tongue is p.r.o.ne to lose the way, Not so the pen, for in a letter We have not better things to say, But surely say them better.

She walked in flowers around my field As June herself around the sphere.

Friends to me are frozen wine; I wait the sun on them should shine.

You shall not love me for what daily spends; You shall not know me in the noisy street, Where I, as others, follow petty ends; Nor when in fair saloons we chance to meet; Nor when I'm jaded, sick, anxious or mean.

But love me then and only, when you know Me for the channel of the rivers of G.o.d From deep ideal fontal heavens that flow.

To and fro the Genius flies, A light which plays and hovers Over the maiden's head And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes.

Of her faults I take no note, Fault and folly are not mine; Comes the Genius,--all's forgot, Replunged again into that upper sphere He scatters wide and wild its l.u.s.tres here.

Love Asks nought his brother cannot give; Asks nothing, but does all receive.

Love calls not to his aid events; He to his wants can well suffice: Asks not of others soft consents, Nor kind occasion without eyes; Nor plots to ope or bolt a gate, Nor heeds Condition's iron walls,-- Where he goes, goes before him Fate; Whom he uniteth, G.o.d installs; Instant and perfect his access To the dear object of his thought, Though foes and land and seas between Himself and his love intervene.

The brave Empedocles, defying fools, p.r.o.nounced the word that mortals hate to hear-- "I am divine, I am not mortal made; I am superior to my human weeds."

Not Sense but Reason is the Judge of truth; Reason's twofold, part human, part divine; That human part may be described and taught, The other portion language cannot speak.