Sophocles, Plato, Socrates,
Gentlemen,
Pythagoras, Thucydides,
Herodotus, and Homer,—yea,
Clement, Augustin, Origen,
Burnt brightlier towards their setting-day,
Gentlemen.
And ye, red-lipped and smooth-browed; list,
Gentlemen;
Much is there waits you we have missed;
Much lore we leave you worth the knowing,
Much, much has lain outside our ken:
Nay, rush not: time serves: we are going,
Gentlemen.
AFTER READING PSALMS
XXXIX., XL., ETC.
Simple was I and was young;
Kept no gallant tryst, I;
Even from good words held my tongue,
Quoniam Tu fecisti!
Through my youth I stirred me not,
High adventure missed I,
Left the shining shrines unsought;
Yet—me deduxisti!
At my start by Helicon
Love-lore little wist I,
Worldly less; but footed on;
Why? Me suscepisti!
When I failed at fervid rhymes,
“Shall,” I said, “persist I?”
“Dies” (I would add at times)
“Meos posuisti!”
So I have fared through many suns;
Sadly little grist I
Bring my mill, or any one’s,
Domine, Tu scisti!
And at dead of night I call:
“Though to prophets list I,
Which hath understood at all?
Yea: Quem elegisti?”
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