THE HIGHEST CLAIMS.
I woke and found my dream withdrawn,
And, with it, each weird guest,
Whose urgency, from eve to dawn,
Had robb’d me of my rest.
One call’d me ruler of the land;
One chief of hosts enroll’d;
One brought me wealth; one bade my hand
A pen immortal hold;
But none spake aught of aims I thought
More blest than theirs could be;
And, leading on to all I sought,
Still claim’d the most from me.
“To hold a sceptre in the state,
Like Moses o’er the sea,
Controlling thus a rival’s fate,
Who overwhelm’d will be;
To wield a sword in dangerous times,
Till foes yield up each aim,
While hope with firmer footstep climbs
The crumbling ledge of fame,—
All this I know were well, but though
Each foe should bend the knee,
An homage grander still, I trow,
Would claim the most from me.
“To join the throngs whose efforts prove
How dear the wealth they earn;
Or those whose thought the world can move
To deeds for which they yearn;
All this were well; but gold is mined
In depths that lure below,
And thought more lasting forms can find
Than lip and line bestow.
When gem and scroll a living soul
With all its powers may be,
Naught else that might my deeds control
Can claim the most from me.
“Ah, why through all life’s little day
Should drum and trumpet call,
And cluster’d smoke from many a fray
Hang o’er earth like a pall?
How small a space above each fight
Its rising thunder jars!
The echo sleeps in paths of light
Where shine unmoved the stars.
To draw toward love like heaven’s above
One’s earthly work may be;
And nothing less than perfect love
Can claim the most from me.”
I spoke, and, ere the beams of day
Could bar him out, each guest
That I had thought had gone for aye,
Return’d and term’d me blest.
One call’d me ruler of the land;
One chief of hosts enroll’d;
One brought me wealth; one bade my hand
A pen immortal hold;
And every voice breath’d forth: “Rejoice;
O soul, thy wisdom see:—
While love rules all, thy ruling choice
Must claim the most from me.”