The Quest
I sought among the
trampling herds of men
That choke the cities
of the cast and west.
The proudest mansion
and the foulest den
I entered, seeking
wisdom yet unguessed.
I searched them
through unpausing, without rest,
Until the bricks and
plaster of each wall
Became transparent at
my thought's behest,
But still I could not
hear the Master's call.
I wandered on the
moorland and the fen,
I climbed the mountain
to its silent crest,
I watched the robin
redbreast and the wren
Choose out the leaves
wherewith to build a nest.
I looked upon the
plain by dawn caressed,
I saw its contours
gaunt beneath night's pall.
All nature told her
tale at my behest,
I thought to keep all
knowledge in a pen,
All human hardship was
to me a test,
There seemed naught
undiscovered to my ken,
But that I sought I
found nowhere expressed.
I left my learning for
a maiden's breast,
I scorned my wisdom to
become her thrall,
Blasphemed my task at
her unspoke behest,
But still I could not
hear the Master's call.
She spurned the love
which all my soul possessed,
She threw it down and
jested at its fall.
I laughed and turned
to recommence my quest,
And in the laugh I
heard the Master's call.
R. T. CHANDLER.
(Westminster Gazette,
2 de junio de 1909)