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Title: Aspiration
Author: Helen Hay Whitney [
More Titles by Whitney]
The pale and misty particles of Time
Hover about us; scarce our eyes can see
Youth's far-off dream of what we were to be.
Life's truth, which once we would redeem with rhyme,
Has proved instead a world-worn pantomime.
The running river of expediency
Has drowned the hopes that Fortune held in fee--
Why fall upon the track so many climb?
Why strive to speak what all the earth has heard?
Why labor at a work the ages plan?--
Life has been lived so oft--an outworn thing!
Then hark! the time-sweet carol of a bird,
New as a flower; and see--ah, shame to man!
The endless aspiration of the Spring.
II
The full throat of the world is charged with song,
Morning and twilight melt with ecstasy
In the high heat of noon. Simply to be,
Palpitant where the green spring forces throng,
Eager for life, life unashamed and strong--
This is desire fulfilled. Exalted, free,
The spirit gains her ether, scornfully
Denies existence that is dark or wrong.
This is enough, to see the song begun
Which shall be finished in some field afar.
Laugh that the night may still contain a star,
Nor idly moan your impotence of grace.
Life is a song, lift up your care-free face
Gladly and gratefully toward the sun.
[The end]
Helen Hay Whitney's poem: Aspiration
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