Poems — Volume 2

Transcribed from the 1912 Times Book Club “Surrey” edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org
BY GEORGE MEREDITH
SURREY EDITION
LONDON THE TIMES BOOK CLUB 376–384 OXFORD STREET, W. 1912
Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable, Printers to his Majesty
Let Fate or Insufficiency provide Mean ends for men who what they are would be: Penned in their narrow day no change they see Save one which strikes the blow to brutes and pride. Our faith is ours and comes not on a tide: And whether Earth’s great offspring, by decree, Must rot if they abjure rapacity, Not argument but effort shall decide. They number many heads in that hard flock: Trim swordsmen they push forth: yet try thy steel. Thou, fighting for poor humankind, wilt feel The strength of Roland in thy wrist to hew A chasm sheer into the barrier rock, And bring the army of the faithful through.
Now farewell to you! you are One of my dearest, whom I trust: Now follow you the Western star, And cast the old world off as dust.
From many friends adieu! adieu! The quick heart of the word therein. Much that we hope for hangs with you: We lose you, but we lose to win.
The beggar-king, November, frets: His tatters rich with Indian dyes Goes hugging: we our season’s debts Pay calmly, of the Spring forewise.
We send our worthiest; can no less, If we would now be read aright,— To that great people who may bless Or curse mankind: they have the might.
The proudest seasons find their graves, And we, who would not be wooed, must court. We have let the blunderers and the waves Divide us, and the devil had sport.
The blunderers and the waves no more Shall sever kindred sending forth Their worthiest from shore to shore For welcome, bent to prove their worth.