Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/258
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222
The House we Build at Last.
All round His workshop we hang, dusty, silent;
Will it be wild caprice, or deep design,
Shall move His hand toward this brother or that,
Toward you or me?
Will He, like fierce old Saul,
Meshed in a toil of cross desires and fears,
Smooth out the ragged discord of His soul
With some sweet elvish moonlight melody,
As of a lost breeze in the elms of Heaven,
Then break His instrument in ape-like fury,
So that we shriek once and are still for ever?
Will it be wild caprice, or deep design,
Shall move His hand toward this brother or that,
Toward you or me?
Will He, like fierce old Saul,
Meshed in a toil of cross desires and fears,
Smooth out the ragged discord of His soul
With some sweet elvish moonlight melody,
As of a lost breeze in the elms of Heaven,
Then break His instrument in ape-like fury,
So that we shriek once and are still for ever?
Or will He, toying with a single string,
While we lie yet half-made, draw out crude trills,
Mad turns and sweeps, and soulless tremolos,
A hideous parody of music sweet,
Then dash us to the floor as all unfit
For airs divine and themes of Paradise?
While we lie yet half-made, draw out crude trills,
Mad turns and sweeps, and soulless tremolos,
A hideous parody of music sweet,
Then dash us to the floor as all unfit
For airs divine and themes of Paradise?
Or shall we meekly pray that we may hang
Mellowing, peaceable, voiceless to the end,
Gathering dust upon the workshop wall?
Mellowing, peaceable, voiceless to the end,
Gathering dust upon the workshop wall?
CLV.
The House we Build at Last.
How small the house we build at last!
How strangely altered is our pride;
One darkened room is all we ask,
No garish light on any side;
One narrow bed for perfect rest,
One bed—there is no other guest!
How strangely altered is our pride;
One darkened room is all we ask,
No garish light on any side;
One narrow bed for perfect rest,
One bed—there is no other guest!