II.
Ah, there he stands! With wondering face
Old men surround the boy;
The solemn looks, the awful place
Bestill the mother's joy.
In sweet reproach her gladness hid,
Her trembling voice says—low,
Less like the chiding than the chid—
"How couldst thou leave us so?"
But will her dear heart understand
The answer that he gives—
Childlike, eternal, simple, grand,
The law by which he lives?
"Why sought ye me?" Ah, mother dear,
The gulf already opes
That will in thee keep live the fear,
And part thee from thy hopes!
"My father's business—that ye know
I cannot choose but do."
Mother, if he that work forego,
Not long he cares for you.
Creation's harder, better part
Now occupies his hand:
I marvel not the mother's heart
Not yet could understand.