By many an image, saint and sage
Have figured human life;
A mart, a maze, a pilgrimage,
A race, a battle strife.
And many another he might phrase
Who studies as they pass
The human emmet's social ways,
Through observation's glass.
So in my emblem I compare
Life to that summer feast
Where every guest supplies a share,
The greatest and the least,
In this wide hall which God hath built
And hung with landscapes round,
Whose belted dome at night is gilt
With stars on azure ground.
And here beneath the varying sky,
'Mid meadows, streams, and trees,
I place my motley company
Reclined in summer ease.
In circles set by chance or choice,
Custom, or birth, or creed;
Yet none so wide but hand or voice
May minister at need.
To live and let live their intent,
And viands interchange,
Piquant, and sweet, and succulent,
The homely and the strange.
Bitters and acids some supply,
And some the loving cup,
While some exhibit wondrously
A zeal for stirring up.
Lo, where apart by fount and rock
Sit lovers all in pairs;
Here grin buffoons, here cynics mock
Our follies and our cares.
See too the bores, expect no less
From any crowd on earth;
These teach us patience, we confess,
And give them ample berth.
Now let us range from group to group,
And mingle where we may;
Let no one scoff, or scorn to stoop,
It is but clay to clay.
Here all may gain, and all rejoice
Beneath the genial law
Proclaimed by Nature's loving voice
From Siam to Loch Awe.
"Mingle," she cries, "a glance, a tone
May play an angel's part,
And serve to pulverise the stone
Which chills the lonely heart."
"Mingle," she cries, "Who loves us best,
Society decreed;
And inequality the test
Of love in every need."
Here some are grand in gems and silk,
Some grim in ragged grey,
Poor parents bring but "mother's milk,"
And millionaires Tokay.
Some as if empty-handed come;
Yet with brave sound and show
Add to the brilliance and the hum;
Life scarce might these forego.
And faithful guests will aye believe
The poor who nought afford,
Welcomed, bring more than they receive,
In blessings from the Lord.
And surely 'twere a godless roll
Whose record should exclude
The hearts that feed the hungry soul
With spiritual food.
The cates that wit and science bring,
Beauty, and art, and joy,
The arms that toil and tongues that sing
Might Homer's lyre employ.
My emblem briefly would express
The wealth of deed and speech
Man brings to man, wherewith to bless
All hearts within their reach,
So they observe as they approve,
The golden rule divine,
His sacramental law of Love
Who blessed the bread and wine. |
