Eleanor Farjeon (Элинор Фарджон)

The Moral

The youth cried in anguish: "God,
My life is bowed down beneath
Its woe! I am no mere clod—
There's fire in my blood and breath.

"You, Who made me of flesh, not stone,
Of quivering tissues—dare
You leave me to face alone
A grief past my strength to bear?

"Life might be veriest heaven,
Life can be veriest hell—
In _Your_ hands rests what is given.
God, I hold You responsible!"

Then the man who was growing grey
Observed: "In an idle mood
God blew bubbles one day
And loosed the glistening brood

On the welkin, one by one—
Myriads of worlds they sped:
There were planets and moon and sun,
And one was the globe we tread."

Then the Spirit that Nullifies,
Men term Death, asked: "How long?" (One fears
God shrugged.) "While I blink my eyes—
Shall we say a billion years?"

 * * * * *

The youth on the fable broke,
And scorn in his accents ran:
"What is all this to me? I spoke
To God of _Myself_, old man."

1. Sonnets. 9. Love Needs not Two the Render It Complete
2. Sonnets. 10. What is this anguish then that always stands
3. The Reflection
4. Apollo in Pherae
5. Sonnets. 16. O lovely life, how you have worn me out

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