The Westminster Gazette, XXXIII (2 June 1909), p. 2.
The Quest
I sought among the trampling herds of men
That choke the cities of the cast and west.
The proudest mansion and the foulest den
I entered, seeking wisdom yet unguessed.
I searched them through unpausing, without rest,
Until the bricks and plaster of each wall
Became transparent at my thought's behest,
But still I could not hear the Master's call.
I wandered on the moorland and the fen,
I climbed the mountain to its silent crest,
I watched the robin redbreast and the wren
Choose out the leaves wherewith to build a nest.
I looked upon the plain by dawn caressed,
I saw its contours gaunt beneath night's pall.
All nature told her tale at my behest,
But still I could not hear the Master's call.
I thought to keep all knowledge in a pen,
All human hardship was to me a test,
There seemed naught undiscovered to my ken,
But that I sought I found nowhere expressed.
I left my learning for a maiden's breast,
I scorned my wisdom to become her thrall,
Blasphemed my task at her unspoke behest,
But still I could not hear the Master's call.
She spurned the love which all my soul possessed,
She threw it down and jested at its fall.
I laughed and turned to recommence my quest,
And in the laugh I heard the Master's call.
R. T. CHANDLER.
http://home.comcast.net/~mossrobert/html/works/quest.txt
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário