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(To Soldiers Three)
AND they were stronger hands than mine | |
| That digged the Ruby from the earth— | |
| More cunning brains that made it worth | |
| The large desire of a king, | |
| And stouter hearts that through the brine | 5 |
| Went down the perfect Pearl to bring. | |
| |
| Lo, I have wrought in common clay | |
| Rude figures of a rough-hewn race, | |
| Since pearls strew not the market-place | |
| In this my town of banishment, | 10 |
| Where with the shifting dust I play, | |
| And eat the bread of discontent. | |
| |
| Yet is there life in that I make. | |
| O thou who knowest, turn and see— | |
| As thou hast power over me | 15 |
| So have I power over these, | |
| Because I wrought them for thy sake, | |
| And breathed in them mine agonies. | |
| |
| Small mirth was in the making—now | |
| I lift the cloth that cloaks the clay, | 20 |
| And, wearied, at thy feet I lay | |
| My wares, ere I go forth to sell. | |
| The long bazar will praise, but thou— | |
| Heart of my heart—have I done well? | |
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