And their souls evermore are like fountains,
And liquid and lucent and strong,
High over the tops of the mountains
Gush up the sweet billows of song.
No drouth-time of waters can dry them.
Whoever has bathed in that sea,
All dangers, all deaths, they defy them,
And are gladder than gods are, with glee.
“IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN”
We will be what we could be. Do not say,
“It might have been, had not or that, or this.”
No fate can keep us from the chosen way;
He only might, who is.
We will do what we could do. Do not dream
Chance leaves a hero, all uncrowned to grieve.
I hold, all men are greatly what they seem;
He does, who could achieve.
We will climb where we could climb. Tell me not
Of adverse storms that kept thee from the height.
What eagle ever missed the peak he sought?
He always climbs who might.
I do not like the phrase, “It might have been!”
It lacks all force, and life’s best truths perverts
For I believe we have, and reach, and win,
Whatever our deserts.
MOMUS, GOD OF LAUGHTER
Though with gods the world is cumbered,
Gods unnamed, and gods unnumbered,
Never god was known to be
Who had not his devotee.
So I dedicate to mine,
Here in verse, my temple-shrine.
’Tis not Ares,—mighty Mars,
Who can give success in wars.
’Tis not Morpheus, who doth keep
Guard above us while we sleep,
’Tis not Venus, she whose duty
’Tis to give us love and beauty;
Hail to these, and others, after
Momus, gleesome god of laughter.
Quirinus would guard my health,
Plutus would insure me wealth;
Mercury looks after trade,
Hera smiles on youth and maid.
All are kind, I own their worth,
After Momus, god of mirth.