Physician of the soul, he spake
Of simples that allay
The blood, and how the nerves that ache
Freeze under ethic spray.
I turned; perhaps his touch of pride
Moved me, a garb he wore;
I saw those children eager-eyed,
And Rome’s pale Emperor.
“You miss,” I said, “born Nature’s rule,
Her statutes unrepealed,
You would remove us from the school,
And from the playing-field.
And if our griefs be vain, our joys
Vainer, all’s in the plan;
For what are we but gamesome boys?
Through these we grow to man.
I to my hornbook now give heed,
Now hear my playmates call,
Will ‘chase the rolling circles speed,
And urge the flying ball.’
Joys, pains, hopes, fears,—a mingled heap,
Grant me, nor Prince nor prig!
I want, sad Emperor, rosy sleep,
Leave me my whirligig.”
In haste I spoke; such gusty talk
Oft wrongs these lips of mine;
Under grey clouds some day I’ll walk
Again with Antonine.
PARADISE LOST AND FOUND
Eve, to tell truth, was not deceived;
The snake’s word seemed to tally
With something she herself conceived,
Sick of her happy valley.