“World-weaver! what is Grief?
And what are Right, and Wrong,
And Feeling, that belong
To creatures all who owe thee fief?
What worse is Weak than Strong?” . . .
VIII
—Unlightened, curious, meek,
She broods in sad surmise . . .
—Some say they have heard her sighs
On Alpine height or Polar peak
When the night tempests rise.
THE PROBLEM
Shall we conceal the Case, or tell it—
We who believe the evidence?
Here and there the watch-towers knell it
With a sullen significance,
Heard of the few who hearken intently and carry an eagerly upstrained sense.
Hearts that are happiest hold not by it;
Better we let, then, the old view reign;
Since there is peace in it, why decry it?
Since there is comfort, why disdain?
Note not the pigment the while that the painting determines humanity’s joy and pain!
THE SUBALTERNS
I
“Poor wanderer,” said the leaden sky,
“I fain would lighten thee,
But there be laws in force on high
Which say it must not be.”
II