Richard Watson Gilder

(In Answer to a Question)WHAT is a sonnet? 'T is the pearly shell
That murmurs of the far-off murmuring sea;
A precious jewel carved most curiously;
It is a little picture painted well.…

Thou art so used, Love, to thine own bird's song,—
⁠ Sung to thine ear in love's low monotone,
⁠ Sung to thee only, Love, to thee alone
⁠ Of all the listening world,—that I among…

He the great World-Musician at whose stroke
The stars of morning into music broke;
He from whose Being Infinite are caught
All harmonies of light, and sound, and thought—…

There is nothing new under the sun;
⁠There is no new hope or despair;
The agony just begun
⁠ Is as old as the earth and the air.…

That I should love thee seemeth meet and wise,
⁠ So beautiful thou art that he were mad
⁠Who in thy countenance no pleasure had;
⁠ Who felt not the still music of thine eyes…

Despise not thou thy father's ancient creed;
⁠Of his pure life it was the golden thread
⁠Whereon bright days were gathered, bead by bead,
⁠Till death laid low that dear and reverend head.…

"And this, then, is thy love," I hear thee say,
⁠ "And dost thou love, and canst thou torture so?
⁠ Ah, spare me, if thou lov'st me, this last woe!"
⁠ But I am not my own; I must obey…

Within the second dolorous circle where
⁠ The lost are whirled, lamenting—thou and I
⁠ Stood, Love, to-day with Dante. Silently
⁠ We looked upon the black and trembling air;…

As melting snow leaves bare the mountain-side
In spaces that grow wider and more wide,
So melted from the sky the cloudy veil
That hid the face of sunrise. Land and ledge…

Two travelers met upon a plain
Where two straight, narrow pathways crossed;
They met and, with a still surprise,
They looked into each other's eyes…

Said the Poet unto the Seer:
How shall I learn to tell
What I know of Heaven and Hell?
I speak, but to ashes turn…

O, love is not a summer mood,
⁠ Nor flying phantom of the brain,
Nor youthful fever of the blood,
⁠Nor dream, nor fate, nor circumstance.…

A night of stars and dreams, of dreams and sleep;
⁠ A waking into another empty day—
⁠ But not unlovely all, for then I say:
⁠ "To-morrow!" Through the hours this light doth creep…

Not from the whole wide world I chose thee—
Sweetheart, light of the land and the sea!
The wide, wide world could not inclose thee,
For thou art the whole wide world to me.

I know thou art not that brown mountain-side,
⁠ Nor the pale mist that lies along the hills
⁠ And with white joy the deepening valley fills;
⁠ Nor yet the solemn river moving wide…

Come to me ye who suffer, for to all
⁠ I am a brother now! 'T was not in vain
⁠I saw the face of Sorrow; she who slain
⁠ Yet lives; whose voice when she doth weep and call…

This is the earth he walked on; not alone
⁠ That Asian country keeps the sacred stain;
⁠Ah, not alone the far Judæan plain,
⁠ Mountain and river! Lo, the sun that shone…

(SOJOURNING IN GALILEE, A. D. 32)IIf Jesus Christ is a man,—
And only a man,—I say
That of all mankind I cleave to him,
And to him will I cleave alway.IIIf Jesus Christ is a God,—…

O highest, strongest, sweetest woman-soul!
⁠ Thou holdest in the compass of thy grace
⁠ All the strange fate and passion of thy race;
⁠ Of the old, primal curse thou knowest the whole.…

A barren stretch that slants to the salt sea's gray,—
⁠Rock-strewn, and scarred by fire, and rough with stubble,—
With here and there a bold, bright touch of color—
Berries and yellow leaves, that make the dolor…

Through love to light! O, wonderful the way
That leads from darkness to the perfect day!
From darkness and from sorrow of the night
To morning that comes singing o'er the sea.…

My songs are all of thee, what tho' I sing
⁠ Of morning when the stars are yet in sight,
⁠Of evening, or the melancholy night,
⁠ Of birds that o'er the reddening waters wing;…

I will be brave for thee, dear heart; for thee
⁠My boasted bravery forego. I will
⁠For thee be wise, or lose my little skill;
⁠ Coward or brave; wise, foolish; bond or free.…

He knows not the path of duty
⁠ Who says that the way is sweet;
But he who is blind to the beauty,
⁠And finds but thorns for his feet.He alone is the perfect giver…