She never guessed her words reproved
A silent envy nursed within, 170
A selfish, souring discontent
Pride-born, the devil's sin.
I smiled, half bitter, half in jest:
'The wisest man of all the wise
Left for his summary of life
"Vanity of vanities."
'Beneath the sun there's nothing new:
Men flow, men ebb, mankind flows on:
If I am wearied of my life,
Why so was Solomon. 180
'Vanity of vanities he preached
Of all he found, of all he sought:
Vanity of vanities, the gist
Of all the words he taught.
'This in the wisdom of the world,
In Homer's page, in all, we find:
As the sea is not filled, so yearns
Man's universal mind.
'This Homer felt, who gave his men
With glory but a transient state: 190
His very Jove could not reverse
Irrevocable fate.
'Uncertain all their lot save this—
Who wins must lose, who lives must die:
All trodden out into the dark
Alike, all vanity.'
She scarcely answered when I paused,
But rather to herself said: 'One
Is here,' low-voiced and loving, 'Yea,
Greater than Solomon.' 200
So both were silent, she and I:
She laid her work aside, and went
Into the garden-walks, like spring,
All gracious with content,
A little graver than her wont,
Because her words had fretted me;
Not warbling quite her merriest tune
Bird-like from tree to tree.