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Thou writest, paintest, stays: that does not die:
Sappho survives, because we sing her songs,
And Eschylus, because we read his plays!"
Why, if they live still, let them come and take
Thy slave in my despite-drink from thy cup-
Speak in my place. Thou diest while I survive?
Say rather that my fate is deadlier still,
In this, that every day my sense of joy
Grows more acute, my soul (intensified
In power and insight) more enlarged, more keen;
While every day my hairs fall more and more,
My hand shakes, and the heavy years increase
The horror quickening still from year to year,
The consummation coming past escape

When I shall know most, and yet least enjoy-
When all my works wherein I prove my worth,
Being present still to mock me in men's mouths,
Alive still, in the phrase of such as thou,
I, I, the feeling, thinking, acting man,
The man who loved his life so over much,
Shall sleep in my urn. It is so horrible,
I dare at times imagine to my need
Some future state revealed to us by Zeus,
Unlimited in capability

For joy, as this is in desire for joy,

To seek which, the joy-hunger forces us.
That, stung by straitness of our life, made strait
On purpose to make sweet the life at large —
Freed by the throbbing impulse we call death

We burst there as the worm into the fly,

Who, while a worm still, wants his wings. But, no!
Zeus has not yet revealed it; and, alas!

He must have done so were it possible!

Live long and happy, and in that thought die, Glad for what was. Farewell. And for the rest, I cannot tell thy messenger aright

Where to deliver what he bears of thine

To one called Paulus- we have heard his fame
Indeed, if Christus be not one with him
I know not, nor am troubled much to know.
Thou canst not think a mere barbarian Jew,
As Paulus proves to be, one circumcised,
Hath access to a secret shut from us?
Thou wrongest our philosophy, O king,
In stooping to inquire of such an one,
As if his answer could impose at all.

He writeth, doth he? well, and he may write.

Oh, the Jew findeth scholars! certain slaves

Who touched on this same isle, preached him and Christ;

And (as I gathered from a bystander)

Their doctrines could be held by no sane man.

THE TWINS.

"Give" and "It-shall-be-given-unto-you."

1.

GRAND rough old Martin Luther
Bloomed fables - flowers on furze,

The better the uncouther:

Do roses stick like burrs ?

2.

A beggar asked an alms

One day at an abbey-door,

Said Luther; but, seized with qualms,

The Abbot replied, "We 're poor!'

3.

"Poor, who had plenty once,

"When gifts fell thick as rain :

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"But they give us nought, for the nonce, "And how should we give again?"

4.

Then the beggar, "See your

"Of old, unless I err,

sins!

"Ye had brothers for inmates, twins,

"Date and Dabitur."

5.

"While Date was in good case

"Dabitur flourished too:

"For Dabitur's lenten face,

"No wonder if Date rue."

6.

"Would ye retrieve the one?

"Try and make plump the other! "When Date's penance is done, "Dabitur helps his brother."

7.

"Only, beware relapse!"

The Abbot hung his head. This beggar might be, perhaps, An angel, Luther said.

POPULARITY.

1.

STAND still, true poet that you are,

I know you; let me try and draw you.

Some night you'll fail us.

When afar

You rise, remember one man saw you, Knew you, and named a star.

2.

My star, God's glow-worm! Why extend That loving hand of His which leads you, Yet locks you safe from end to end

Of this dark world, unless He needs you Just saves your light to spend?

3.

His clenched Hand shall unclose at last

I know, and let out all the beauty.

My poet holds the future fast,

Accepts the coming ages' duty, Their present for this past.

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