THE COMPANION
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et him answer as he will,Or be lightsome as he may,Now nor after shall he sayWorn-out words enough to kill,Or to lull down by their craft,Doubt, that was born yesterday,When he lied and when she laughed. Let him find another nameFor the starlight on the snow,Let him teach her till she knowThat all seasons are the same,And all sheltered ways are fair,--Still, wherever she may go,Doubt will have a dwelling there. ATHERTON’S GAMBIT The master played the bishop’s pawn,For jest, while Atherton looked on;The master played this way and that,And Atherton, amazed thereat,Said “Now I have a thing in viewThat will enlighten one or two,And make a difference or soIn what it is they do not know.” The morning stars together sangAnd forth a mighty music rang--Not heard by many, save as toldAgain through magic manifold,By such a few as have to playFor others, in the Master’s way,The music that the Master madeWhen all the morning stars obeyed. Atherton played the bishop’s pawnWhile more than one or two looked on;Atherton played this way and that,And many a friend, amused thereat,Went on about his businessNor cared for Atherton the less;A few stood longer by the game,With Atherton to them the same. The morning stars are singing still,To crown, to challenge, and to kill;And if perforce there falls a voiceOn pious ears that have no choiceExcept to urge an erring handTo wreak its homage on the land,Who of us that is worth his whileWill, if he listen, more than smile? Who of us, being what he is,May scoff at others’ ecstasies?However we may shine to-day,More-shining ones are on the way;And so it were not wholly wellTo be at odds with Azrael,--Nor were it kind of any oneTo sing the end of Atherton.
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