No More Learning

Death's consummation crowns completed life,
Or comes too early. Hope being set on thee
For others, if for others then for thee,--
For thee and me.

[_The wind revolves from the East, and round again to the East, perfumed
by the Eden rose, and full of Voices which sweep out into articulation
as they pass. _

Let thy soul shake its leaves
To feel the mystic wind--hark!

_Eve. _ I hear life.

_Infant Voices passing in the wind. _
O we live, O we live--
And this life that we receive
Is a warm thing and a new,
Which we softly bud into
From the heart and from the brain,--
Something strange that overmuch is
Of the sound and of the sight,
Flowing round in trickling touches,
With a sorrow and delight,--
Yet is it all in vain?
Rock us softly,
Lest it be all in vain.

_Youthful Voices passing. _
O we live, O we live--
And this life that we achieve
Is a loud thing and a bold
Which with pulses manifold
Strikes the heart out full and fain--
Active doer, noble liver,
Strong to struggle, sure to conquer,
Though the vessel's prow will quiver
At the lifting of the anchor:
Yet do we strive in vain?

_Infant Voices passing. _
Rock us softly,
Lest it be all in vain.

_Poet Voices passing. _
O we live, O we live--
And this life that we conceive
Is a clear thing and a fair,
Which we set in crystal air
That its beauty may be plain!
With a breathing and a flooding
Of the heaven-life on the whole,
While we hear the forests budding
To the music of the soul--
Yet is it tuned in vain?

_Infant Voices passing. _
Rock us softly,
Lest it be all in vain.

_Philosophic Voices passing. _
O we live, O we live--
And this life that we perceive
Is a great thing and a grave
Which for others' use we have,
Duty-laden to remain.
We are helpers, fellow-creatures,
Of the right against the wrong;
We are earnest-hearted teachers
Of the truth which maketh strong--
Yet do we teach in vain?

_Infant Voices passing. _
Rock us softly,
Lest it be all in vain.

_Revel Voices passing. _
O we live, O we live--
And this life that we reprieve
Is a low thing and a light,
Which is jested out of sight
And made worthy of disdain!
Strike with bold electric laughter
The high tops of things divine--
Turn thy head, my brother, after,
Lest thy tears fall in my wine!
For is all laughed in vain?

_Infant Voices passing. _
Rock us softly,
Lest it be all in vain.

_Eve. _ I hear a sound of life--of life like ours--
Of laughter and of wailing, of grave speech,
Of little plaintive voices innocent,
Of life in separate courses flowing out
Like our four rivers to some outward main.