XXIII
“Quanto e bello giovinezza!
Ma sen fugge tuttavia,
Chi vuol esser lieto sia—
Di doman non v’e certezza.”
Lorenzo de Medici
No, no, why talk of this, your faith, to me!
In life are nobler things than fast and prayer
Or silent meditation cloistered where
The real things cannot touch us vividly.
Give me the storm, the struggle! Aye! give me
A taste of all that is or here or there,
For I would touch life richly everywhere—
An earth-lyre for emotion’s mastery.
Dear One, Dear One, I firmly do believe—
(O! look not at me thus with eyes that grieve!)
That if there is the Heaven to which you pray
Unto the cloistered will its keeper say:
“A garden rich I gave you. Now speak truth—
What did you with my greatest gift—your youth?”