Читать книгу Poems - Arnold Matthew - Страница 9

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Because thou hast believed, the wheels of life

Stand never idle, but go always round;

Not by their hands, who vex the patient ground,

Moved only; but by genius, in the strife

Of all its chafing torrents after thaw,

Urged; and to feed whose movement, spinning sand,

The feeble sons of pleasure set their hand;

And, in this vision of the general law,

Hast labored, but with purpose; hast become

Laborious, persevering, serious, firm—

For this, thy track across the fretful foam

Of vehement actions without scope or term,

Called history, keeps a splendor; due to wit,

Which saw one clew to life, and followed it.