THE FOUNTAIN

Into the sunshine,
  Full of the light,
Leaping and flashing
  From morn till night;

Into the moonlight,
  Whiter than snow,
Waving so flower-like
  When the winds blow;

Into the starlight
  Rushing in spray,
Happy at midnight,
  Happy by day;

Ever in motion,
  Blithesome and cheery,
Still climbing heavenward,
  Never aweary;

Glad of all weathers,
  Still seeming best,
Upward or downward. 
  Motion thy rest;

Full of a nature
  Nothing can tame,
Changed every moment,
  Ever the same;

Ceaseless aspiring,
  Ceaseless content,
Darkness or sunshine
  Thy element;

Glorious fountain. 
  Let my heart be
Fresh, changeful, constant,
  Upward, like thee!

ODE

I

In the old days of awe and keen-eyed wonder,
  The Poet’s song with blood-warm truth was rife;
He saw the mysteries which circle under
  The outward shell and skin of daily life. 
Nothing to him were fleeting time and fashion,
  His soul was led by the eternal law;
There was in him no hope of fame, no passion,
  But with calm, godlike eyes he only saw. 
He did not sigh o’er heroes dead and buried,
  Chief-mourner at the Golden Age’s hearse, 10
Nor deem that souls whom Charon grim had ferried
  Alone were fitting themes of epic verse: 
He could believe the promise of to-morrow,
  And feel the wondrous meaning of to-day;
He had a deeper faith in holy sorrow
  Than the world’s seeming loss could take away. 
To know the heart of all things was his duty,
  All things did sing to him to make him wise,
And, with a sorrowful and conquering beauty,
  The soul of all looked grandly from his eyes. 20
He gazed on all within him and without him,
  He watched the flowing of Time’s steady tide,
And shapes of glory floated all about him
  And whispered to him, and he prophesied. 
Than all men he more fearless was and freer,
  And all his brethren cried with one accord,—­
’Behold the holy man!  Behold the Seer! 
  Him who hath spoken with the unseen Lord!’
He to his heart with large embrace had taken
  The universal sorrow of mankind, 30
And, from that root, a shelter never shaken,
  The tree of wisdom grew with sturdy rind. 
He could interpret well the wondrous voices
  Which to the calm and silent spirit come;
He knew that the One Soul no more rejoices
  In the star’s anthem than the insect’s hum. 
He in his heart was ever meek and humble. 
  And yet with kingly pomp his numbers ran,
As he foresaw how all things false should crumble
  Before the free, uplifted soul of man;