Poem by Isa Knox

Live and Let Live

WHENCE hath come that ancient saying,
    Simple words and few,
All the truth of life displaying
    In a single view?
From the past a voice far reaching—
Would we better heed its teaching,
    If its source we knew?

What heart throbbed with fellow-feeling,
    Who these words first spoke—
With indignant voice appealing
    'Gainst the heavy yoke
That its victim slowly crusheth,
Slow but sure as life-blood gusheth
    At the murderer's stroke?

All things, one great law obeying,
    Life do get and give,
Each receiving and conveying,
    Thus "live and let live;"
Up to the Almighty Giver,
Who His hand withholdeth never,
    From whom all receive.

Nought hath for itself existed
    Since the world began;
Nought hath the great law resisted,
    Save the soul of man.
From the sun its light bestowing,
To the meanest thing upgrowing,
    Trace the wondrous plan.

When the cloud with water filleth,
    Floating o'er the main,
On the dry land it distilleth
    The refreshing rain;
And the thirsty earth receiveth,
And to all its verdure giveth
    Fresher life again.

But upon the rocks descending
    Vainly fall the dews;
All heaven's influences blending,
    Hearts of rock refuse;
Vainly, too, the sand is drinking,
Where the living well-spring sinking,
    Doth its waters lose.

Such is he who of life's graces
    Takes, yet nought imparts—
Earth hath few such barren places
    As such human hearts;
To the rock some wildling clingeth,
In the waste some floweret springeth,
    Where the well-spring starts.

Heaven with every wind is sowing—
    Let not such despair;
Everything that lives is growing;
    Heaven itself doth care
That the feeblest things be nourished;
Verdure where the wildling flourished,
    Crowns the rock once bare.

Where the spreading woods are waving
    Fell a single seed;
All the parching desert braving,
    Grew a single weed,
Where the sun the harvest gildeth,
And the date-palm clusters yieldeth,
    To man's joy and need.

Live! remembering that thou livest
    Not alone by bread!
Give! for in whate'er thou givest,
    Thy life forth is shed!
When the flower no leaf unfoldeth,
When the tree its fruit withholdeth,
    We pronounce it dead.

Have no light, no joy, no blessing,
    Which thou dost not share!
Bind no burden so oppressing,
    That thou couldst not bear!
Earth gives back her harvest smiling—
Should the brow that sweats with toiling,
    Want and sorrow wear?

Have you given to those who win ye
    All your wealth and pride,
What their waste of nerve and sinew,
    For your use supplied;
For the life spent daily dying,
For the souls within them crying,
    Owe you nought beside?

Say not, brother, poor and lowly,
    "This is not for me"—
To live with purpose true and holy,
    Never loss can be;
So this text and teaching humble
Shall not cause thy foot to stumble,
    Speaking thus to thee:—

Life hath things of which the sharing
    Doth increase the store,
Least hath he who sows most sparing,
    When the harvest's o'er:
Give a cup of water only,
To thy neighbour sick and lonely,
    If thou hast no more.

1. The Poet's Aim
2. Wind and Stars
3. A Greenness o’er My Vision Passed
4. Shadow
5. The Brides of Quair

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