WORMWOOD ^NIGHTSHADE 



A child blows bubbles that glitter, 



He snatches them, they disperse ; 

 Yet childhood's folly is better, 



And manhood's folly is worse ; 

 Gilt baubles we grasp at blindly 



Would turn in our hands to dross ; 

 'Tis a fate less cruel than kindly 



Denies the gain and the loss. 



And as one who pursues a shadow. 



As one who hunts in a dream, 

 As the child who crosses the meadow, 



Enticed by the rainbow's gleam, 

 I — knowing the course was foolish. 



And guessing the goal was pain, 

 Stupid, and stubborn, and mulish — 



Followed and follow again. 



The sun over Gideon halted, 



Holding aloof the night, 

 When Joshua's arm was exalted. 



Yet never retraced his flight ; 

 Nor will he turn back, nor can he. 



He chases the future fast ; 



The future is blank — oh, Annie ! 



I fain would recall the past. 

 105 



