THE HAWK AND THE SPARROW.
I. To-day, upon the public square, I saw a hawk in fury tear A sparrow: hapless little thing, The tyrant rent it wing from wing And limb from limb, and on the snow Its life-drops made a crimson glow.
II. I drove the feathered fiend away, And gathered up the mangled prey; And pondering o’er the fragments red, I thought of what is writ and said: “The Omnipresent Lord of all Has knowledge of a sparrow’s fall.”
III. I thought,—if the omnific Lord Commiserates a dying bird, If all things act by his design, And swerve not from his plumb and line, Why did he arm with murderous beak That hawk to slay a thing so weak And harmless as our little friend?
IV. No more the maple twig will bend Beneath his feet; his life’s swift end One faithful mourner, one at least,— His sexton now and reverent priest,— Deplores; does He who gave him life, And walled him round with tragic strife, Feel equal pity? Why, O why This outrage under all His sky?
V. Is He too weak the weak to save? To His own laws is He a slave? If not, then wherefore were the laws Permitted with such fatal flaws? Surely the heavy curse that fell On Adam, sloping down to hell, Cannot in justice overtake Aught less than human, save the snake?
VI. A soft voice answered, soft and still: “This mystery of earthly ill ’Tis well to probe, ’tis well to seek All knowledge, and to freely speak, Since love of truth thy soul impels, And love of goodness in thee dwells. Well, too, the sympathetic tear Bestowed upon the sparrow here; But scarcely was it well to balk, Or rudely blame the famished hawk.
VII. “High knowledge is not ready-made, And darker grows the mental shade, If you pursue your curious quest; Why with the hawk and sparrow rest? How many of thy boastful race Would spare the hawk in any case— Would spare or pity, though his need Your lordly sportsman could not plead. Moreover this poor bird whose doom Has touched thy feeling heart with gloom, No tender scruple ever made With creatures of an humbler grade, So, puzzling o’er these knots of fate, Life’s riddle grows more intricate.
VIII. “Who seeks will rarely fail to find The thing to which he’s most inclined. If thorns instead of roses suit,— If leaves instead of luscious fruit,— If turbid waters more than clear,— If doleful sounds in place of cheer,— Those will respect the cynic’s right, While these elude his senses quite.
IX. “Doubt if thou wilt, but reverently, And heed not what the owls may say, Who from their gloomy perch give out That sin is foster-child of Doubt. Doubt is the silent needful night, The womb of intellectual might; But who can wisely choose to dwell Forever in that darksome shell?
X. “The fearless soul emerging thence Feels something of omnipotence;— Upon the mountain tops his feet Will tread in joy, and gladly beat The golden shores of summer seas; And he will hear in every breeze Divinest music; even the storm That bends the proud oak’s stubborn form, And howls athwart the naked land, Will bring to him an utterance grand, Engendering noble thoughts, and power To serve him in some trying hour.
XI. “Revere fair Nature’s balanced laws, Nor rashly deem them framed with flaws; The discord which thou seem’st to find In them is part of thine own mind. Put that in tune, and, for the sake Of darkened faces, strive to make The world more happy; do this thing, And thy despondent muse shall wring Sweet nectar out of weed and cloud.”
XII. Silent, though unconvinced, I bowed My head abashed; with firmer trust, And higher faith, I shook the dust Of utter doubt from reason’s plume; And through small openings in the gloom I half discerned a meaning new In that which seemed before untrue: The ever-present Lord of all Compassionates a sparrow’s fall.