Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TWO LIVES, by EDITH BLAND NESBIT


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TWO LIVES, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: One stood with his face to the light
Last Line: In the book of eternal life.
Alternate Author Name(s): Nesbit, E.; Bland, Mrs. Hubert
Subject(s): Socialism


I


ONE stood with his face to the light;
He held a sceptre of song
That ruled men's souls till they strove to the right,
And set their feet on the wrong.

'I am but a slave,' he said,
'The servant of man am I,
To sing of the life that is more than bread,
And the deaths that are life to die.
'And the might of my song shall sway
The millions who sit in shame,
Till they cast their idols of gold away,
And worship the true God's name.'
So he sang, and the nations heard
Through their drunken sleep of years,
And their limbs in their golden fetters stirred
As he sang to their drowsy ears.
Hope woke, in her spellbound bowers,
And gave heed to each clear keen word,
Till Love looked out from a net of flowers,
And called to his heart -- and he heard.
And his song rose higher, more sweet,
As his dreams rose more sweet, more high:
''Tis Love shall aid me, and shall complete
The spell I shall conquer by!
'We two to men's souls will sing,
And the work shall be ours, be ours;
Together welcome the thorns that bring
More fruit than the sweetest flowers!'
But the woman he loved said 'No!
To me all your soul is due,
Can I share with a world, whatever its woe,
My heart's one treasure, you?
'There are plenty to sing of the right
And give their lives for the truth --
But you are mine, and shall sing delight,
And beauty, and love, and youth.

'For these are the songs men love,
These stir their dull brains like wine.
They hate the songs you were proudest of
In the days when you were not mine.
'And if for the world you sing
It will pay you with fame and gold,
And the fame and the gold to me you shall bring
For my heart and my hands to hold.
'Besides -- what steads it to try,
One man against all the rest?
Let the world and its rights and its wrongs go by,
And hide your eyes on my breast!'
Then the man bowed down his head
And she crowned him with roses sweet;
And he laboured for fame and bread,
And laid his wage at her feet.
And the millions who starve and sin,
He shut them out of his life
Where she was alone shut in --
His ruin, his prize, his wife.
And all that he might have been,
And all that he might have done,
These lie with the things that shall not be seen
For ever under the sun.
His children play round his knee,
But he sighs as they come and go --
For they speak of visions he cannot see,
In a tongue that he used to know.
He sings of love and of flowers,
And forgets what they used to mean,
For gold is lord of his empty hours,
And fame of his soul is queen.

And the woman has long possessed
What she bade him win for her sake;
But she holds with the gold accurst unrest,
And the fame with a wild heart-ache.
For the light in her eyes is dim,
Or dim are his eyes that gaze.
There is no light that can light for him
The gloom of his sordid days.
He will die, and his name be enrolled
Where marble makes mock of clay;
(Oh, the pitiful clay, made brave with gold!)
And there let it rot away!


II


One stood in the way of life
And said: 'I will serve and strive
And never weary of strife
For just so long as I live.
'The sum of service I'm worth
I swear it, beyond recall,
To the mother of all, the earth,
To men, the brothers of all.
'I have no voice for a song,
No trumpet nor lyre is mine,
But my sword is sharp, and my arm is strong:
Liberty! these are thine!'
So he followed where high hopes led,
And he paused not for blame or praise,
But ever rejoiced to tread
The roughest and rightest ways.

He scorned ambitions and powers,
Delight was to him but a word,
Till Love looked out from a brake a flowers
And called to his heart, and he heard.
Then the man's whole soul cried sore:
'I am tired of patience and pain!
What if the lights that have gone before
Should be but visions and vain?
'Why should my youth be spent
In following a marsh-light gleam?
Why should my manhood be content
With what may be but a dream?
'The sword I am used to wield
Is as much as my hands can hold,
I will turn aside from the battle-field
To the fields where men gather gold.
'For while I carry the sword
I can hold neither gold nor you --
And the sword is heavy, and your least word
Is music my life sings to!'
But the woman who loved him spake,
She spake brave words with a sigh --
'Rather than drop the sword for my sake
Turn its point to your heart and die!
'It is better to die than live
If life means nothing but greed
To clutch the gifts that the world can give
And turn your back on its need.
'And I have my life-work too,
A banner to bear have I;
Shall my flag be dragged in the dust by you,
Who should help me to hold it high?

'Hard looks life's every line
When the colours of love are effaced,
But death would be harder, O heart of mine,
After a life disgraced!
'And what though we never see
Sweet Love's sweet fruit at its best;
My children's play at your knee,
Your baby's sleep at my breast?
'Only one life is ours --
Shall we die with no world's work done,
Having covered our shame with flowers,
And shrunk from sight of the sun?
'No! Be the sword for him,
Banner of light for me --
Voice at the heart when the eyes grown dim,
"Liberty! This for thee!"'
Then he bowed him low at her knees,
And she gave him the thorny crown
Which whoso wears knows no rest nor ease
Till Death bids him lay it down.
And they turned, and they passed away
To parting, and longing, and tears,
To carry the sword and the flag away
Through the cold clean desolate years,
To work for the world, and to hear
When the long race nearly is run,
Like a voice in a dream, a voice most dear,
'Faithful and good, well done!'
And no man remembers his name,
Nor hers, who was never his wife.
Their names are written in letters of flame
In the book of eternal life.








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