THE OPTIMIST

“There is no evil anywhere” —

Said I unto the priest

Who answered: “Life is cursed with care,

Sin makes of man a beast!”

“Care is not any curse” — I cried,

“To fail is not to sin.”

“Wherefore upon the rood Christ died,

If not our souls to win?”

“Because a hero must face death,

If death be in the way.”

And as I paused to take my breath,

The priest began to say:

“Son, you forget how Adam fell,

Losing his high estate;

And so God doomed him unto hell,

Save for the Master's fate.”

“Yes, I forget — and gladly too —

That ancient Hebrew tale:

How God began a thing to do —

Can the Eternal fail?

“Can He who rides upon the storm,

Who breathes and, lo, the stars!

Whose thought begets a flower-form,

With leaves for avatars;

“Can He who crowns the grass with dew,

And gems the wood with rain;

Fail of His purpose?” — My priest drew

His breath and spoke again:

“Alas, my son! Your words are wild

And far from holy faith;

Your reason is of one beguiled

By some infernal wraith —

“Do you not know the written Word

Tells of our father's fall?

Have you not seen, have you not heard

How death rules over all?”

“There is no death” — I quickly said;

And he: “But all must die!”

“Now is Christ risen from the dead!”

Forthwith I made reply.

“Now is Christ risen and become

Firstfruits of them that slept!”

And lo, the fluent priest was dumb —

He was like one who wept!

“Ah, you have suffered, you have sinned,

Have known the dark abyss,

Have felt upon the roaring wind

The phantom of a kiss;

“You have looked in a woman's eyes

Lit with her love of you,

And such a moment made you wise!”

He murmured: “It is true.”

“Tell me, O priest, was it not worth

Eternity of hell,

When in your heart dear love had birth?” —

Tears from his closed eyes fell.

“Then your great moment gives the point

To what I said before —

There is no evil. You anoint

The spirit's open door —

“A dying body — set the seal

Of some old covenant,

As though the spirit did not feel

The Comrade-Visitant;

“As though the soul were not God's son

Knowing as he is known,

Who hath by cross and passion won

His place beside the throne!

“If all my life were in the dark

And dread of endless doom,

Think you that I should fail the spark

That gleamed athwart the gloom —

“My moment when I soared to bliss

Upon a woman's lips

And that revealing word — her kiss —

Thrilled to my finger tips?

“Nay; by that instant I should know

Evil — so called — worth while,

Accept the challenge, forward go

Bravely against the mile;

“Till by degrees the lengthened space

Should give me stronger thews,

A firmer tread, a purer face,

A never-empty cruse:

“I then should reach a gentler hand

To cripples by the way,

Strike off the fetters, loose the band,

Turn night into the day.

“My tongue would be a tuned reed,

My throat a silver horn,

My lips for fuller faith would plead

From even unto morn.

“I should not waste the miracle

Divine — the gift of speech —

With fancied images of hell —

This only would it teach:

“If God with lilies keeps a tryst,

Then He will also keep

Faith with that moment of the Christ

Who walks upon the deep —

“Christ walks upon the deep with him

Who dares the rising wave,

And though his failing faith grow dim,

Finds love is strong to save;

“Knows love is strong to save and lift

The flagging feet that fail,

Hearing across the cloudy drift:

‘ Courage, O comrade, hail!’

“Who sees the Presence, finds the Face,

And hears the mystic word;

Who moves to his appointed place,

Like any homing bird;

“Who never doubts the highest peak

Of his transcendent hour,

And boldly ventures forth to seek

Fulfilment of his power:

“For him God waits beyond the sun,

His Christ of many scars,

To give for that which he hath done

A heritage of stars.”