| THE MAN that hath great griefs I pity not; | |
| Tis something to be great | |
| In any wise, and hint the larger state, | |
| Though but in shadow of a shade, God wot! | |
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| Moreover, while we wait the possible, | 5 |
| This man has touched the fact, | |
| And probed till he has felt the core, where, packed | |
| In pulpy folds, resides the ironic ill. | |
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| And while we others sip the obvious sweet | |
| Lip-licking after-taste | 10 |
| Of glutinous rind, lo! this man hath made haste, | |
| And pressed the sting that holds the central seat. | |
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| For thus it is God stings us into life, | |
| Provoking actual souls | |
| From bodily systems, giving us the poles | 15 |
| That are His own, not merely balanced strife. | |
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| Nay, the great passions are His veriest thought, | |
| Which whoso can absorb, | |
| Nor, querulous halting, violate their orb, | |
| In him the mind of God is fullest wrought. | 20 |
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| Thrice happy such an one! Far other he | |
| Who dallies on the edge | |
| Of the great vortex, clinging to a sedge | |
| Of patent good, a timorous Manichee; | |
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| Who takes the impact of a long-breathed force, | 25 |
| And fritters it away | |
| In eddies of disgust, that else might stay | |
| His nerveless heart, and fix it to the course. | |
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| For there is threefold oneness with the One; | |
| And he is one, who keeps | 30 |
| The homely laws of life; who, if he sleeps, | |
| Or wakes, in his true flesh Gods will is done. | |
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| And he is one, who takes the deathless forms, | |
| Who schools himself to think | |
| With the All-thinking, holding fast the link, | 35 |
| God-riveted, that bridges casual storms. | |
| |
| But tenfold one is he, who feels all pains | |
| Not partial, knowing them | |
| As ripples parted from the gold-beaked stem, | |
| Wherewith Gods galley onward ever strains. | 40 |
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| To him the sorrows are the tension-thrills | |
| Of that serene endeavour, | |
| Which yields to God for ever and for ever | |
| The joy that is more ancient than the hills. | |