What does it matter that we make resolve?
The Fates laugh at us as they sit and spin;
We cannot tell what Good is, or what Sin,
Or why old faiths in mist of pain dissolve.
We only can stand watchful in the way,
Waiting with patient hands on shield and sword,
Ready to meet disaster in the fray,
Till Time has struck the letters of one word—
Word of such high-born worth: triumphant Love,
Give me thy canopy where'er I rove.
AS ONE WHO WAITETH
As one who waiteth for the signet ring
Of his dear sovereign, that his embassy
May have clear passport over land and sea,
And make the subject sacred as his king;
As waits the warrior for a pontiff's palm,
Upraised in blessing o'er his high emprise;
And bows his mailed forehead prayerful-wise,
Sinking his turbulency in deep calm:
So waited I for one seal to be set
Upon my full commission, for a sign
That should make impotent man's "I forget,"
And make God's "I remember" more divine:
Which should command at need the homage of
The armed squadrons of all loyal love.
THE SEALING
But yestermorn my marshalled hopes were held
Upon the verge of august pilgrimage;
To-day I am as birds that leave the cage
To seek green fastnesses they knew of eld;