RE-RECKONING

Two years have gone, and again I stand

On the bow of a mighty ship

That pushes her way‘ twixt sea and stars

With soft and dreamy dip.

Two years of labouring, heart and hand,

Of waging spirit-wars,

Of wondering ever what life is —

And if death heals its scars.

Two years; and again the mast-bell sounds

Above me — with a low voice,

As ghostly as the white phosphor-foam

That breaks with the old noise

Of waters that have washed all bounds

Of earth, that is man's home —

His ark — on the wide ether flung,

Unrestingly to roam.

For, even as we, is this our earth

An endless wanderer

Far down a universe with vast

Strange voyagings astir;

And where time ever brings to birth

A craving, never past,

To fare from where we are, to where

No anchor ever was cast.

A craving — in the mote, the man,

The mollusc and the star;

A yearning on — O life! O life!

How far leads it, how far?

All unbelievably began

Our voyage, mid a strange strife —

That, meaningless, yet seems to mean

It is with Wisdom rife.

But if it is not, shall we say,

“Let man scuttle his ship,

And drown in universal death

The griefs that at him grip?”

No; for no surety rests therein

To certain end of breath.

He can but let hope set the course

His soul foretokeneth.