Sunday, July 8, 2018
It little satisfies that a knowing King,
By this stillness, appearing sometimes barren,
Match'd with aged ignorance, I mete and dole
Unequal explanations to believers in inequality,
That hoard, and sleep, and know not themselves..
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have en-joyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro scudding veils the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am.. has became a name;
For always searching for the new,
Much have I experienced; cities,
And manners, climates, councils, governments
All reflecting Myself, and honor'd by such joy;
Also the joy of unity with my peers in battle,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am..is both whole and part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is a vortex wherethro'
Gleams that untraveled self whose margin fades
For ever and forever when my ego moves.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to create by action!
As tho' to breath were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, all such wholeness to me
Was not enough: but every hour saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to disallow my ventures,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of all my thoughts.