December 14. QUICKENING. I STOOD by a tree in December, I will send for the axe of the forester, I looked on a life all leafless, And dry as a wintry tree, And I said, "Thou art old and useless, Thou art joyless, and shadeless, and sapless ;- But the sun beamed out in the summer, And I said to myself in wonder, It needed but quickening summer I looked on the life I had slighted, And I said, what quickening summer MRS. CAMPBELL of Ballochyle. December 15. DISCONTENT. LIGHT human nature is too lightly lost Or a small wasp have crept to the innermost Shine westward of our window,-straight we run But what time through the heart and through the brain God hath transfixed us,- -we so moved before, ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. December 16. A KINGDOM. My minde to me a kingdom is; Content I live, this is my stay; I seek no more than may suffice; I presse to beare no haughtie sway; Look what I lacke my minde supplies. Loe! thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring. I see how plentie surfeits oft, And hastie clymbers soonest fall: I see that such as sit aloft Mishap doth threaten most of all: These get with toil, and keepe with feare: Such cares my mind could never beare. No princely pompe, nor welthie store, No shape to winne a lover's eye; Some have too much, yet still they crave, They poor, I rich; they beg, I give ; They lacke, I lend; they pine, I live. I laugh not at another's losse, I grudge not at another's gaine; No worldly wave my mind can tosse, I brooke that is another's bane: I fear no foe, nor fawne on friend, I lothe not life, nor dread mine end. I joy not in no earthly blisse; I weigh not Cresus' welth a straw; For ease, I care not what it is; I feare not fortune's fatall law : My mind is such as may not move For beautie bright or force of love. I wish but what I have at will; I kisse not where I wish to kill; I feigne not love where most I hate ; I breake no sleep to winne my will ; I wayte not at the mighties gate; I scorne no poore, I feare no rich; I feel no want, nor have too much. The court, ne cast, I like, ne loath; Extreames are counted worst of all; The golden meane betwixt them both Doth surest sit, and fears no fall; This is my choyce; for why? I finde No welth is like a quiet minde. My welth is health, and perfect ease; Quoted by BEN JONSON in December 17. THE GOLDEN PRISON. WEEP not for me, when I am gone, Nor waste in idle praise thy love But let it be thy best of prayers, To reach that golden palace bright, Waiting their certain call to Heaven, Where hate nor pride nor fear torments But in the willing agony He plunges, and is blest. |