VIII. Beside the Drawing-Board.

1.

"As like as a Hand to another Hand!"

Whoever said that foolish thing, Could not have studied to understand The counsels of G.o.d in fashioning, Out of the infinite love of his heart, This Hand, whose beauty I praise, apart From the world of wonder left to praise, If I tried to learn the other ways Of love, in its skill, or love, in its power.

"As like as a Hand to another Hand": {10} Who said that, never took his stand, Found and followed, like me, an hour, The beauty in this,--how free, how fine To fear, almost,--of the limit-line!

As I looked at this, and learned and drew, Drew and learned, and looked again, While fast the happy minutes flew, Its beauty mounted into my brain, And a fancy seized me; I was fain To efface my work, begin anew, {20} Kiss what before I only drew; Ay, laying the red chalk 'twixt my lips, With soul to help if the mere lips failed, I kissed all right where the drawing ailed, Kissed fast the grace that somehow slips Still from one's soulless finger-tips.

-- * Lines 27-87 {below--the rest of this section except the last two lines} were added in the edition of 1868; they clear up the obscurity of this section of the poem, as it stood in the original edition of 1864.

2.

'Tis a clay cast, the perfect thing, From Hand live once, dead long ago: Princess-like it wears the ring To fancy's eye, by which we know {30} That here at length a master found His match, a proud lone soul its mate, As soaring genius sank to ground And pencil could not emulate The beauty in this,--how free, how fine To fear almost!--of the limit-line.

Long ago the G.o.d, like me The worm, learned, each in our degree: Looked and loved, learned and drew, Drew and learned and loved again, {40} While fast the happy minutes flew, Till beauty mounted into his brain And on the finger which outvied His art he placed the ring that's there, Still by fancy's eye descried, In token of a marriage rare: For him on earth, his art's despair, For him in heaven, his soul's fit bride.

3.

Little girl with the poor coa.r.s.e hand I turned from to a cold clay cast-- {50} I have my lesson, understand The worth of flesh and blood at last!

Nothing but beauty in a Hand?

Because he could not change the hue, Mend the lines and make them true To this which met his soul's demand,-- Would Da Vinci turn from you?

I hear him laugh my woes to scorn-- "The fool forsooth is all forlorn Because the beauty, she thinks best, {60} Lived long ago or was never born,-- Because no beauty bears the test In this rough peasant Hand! Confessed 'Art is null and study void!'

So sayest thou? So said not I, Who threw the faulty pencil by, And years instead of hours employed, Learning the veritable use Of flesh and bone and nerve beneath Lines and hue of the outer sheath, {70} If haply I might reproduce One motive of the mechanism, Flesh and bone and nerve that make The poorest coa.r.s.est human hand An object worthy to be scanned A whole life long for their sole sake.

Shall earth and the cramped moment-s.p.a.ce Yield the heavenly crowning grace?

Now the parts and then the whole!

Who art thou, with stinted soul {80} And stunted body, thus to cry 'I love,--shall that be life's strait dole?

I must live beloved or die!'

This peasant hand that spins the wool And bakes the bread, why lives it on, Poor and coa.r.s.e with beauty gone,-- What use survives the beauty? Fool!"

Go, little girl with the poor coa.r.s.e hand!

I have my lesson, shall understand.

IX. On Deck.

1.

There is nothing to remember in me, Nothing I ever said with a grace, Nothing I did that you care to see, Nothing I was that deserves a place In your mind, now I leave you, set you free.

-- St. 1. Nothing I did that you care to see: refers to her art-work.

2.

Conceded! In turn, concede to me, Such things have been as a mutual flame.

Your soul's locked fast; but, love for a key, You might let it loose, till I grew the same In your eyes, as in mine you stand: strange plea!

3.

For then, then, what would it matter to me That I was the harsh, ill-favored one?

We both should be like as pea and pea; It was ever so since the world begun: So, let me proceed with my reverie.

-- St. 3. Here it is indicated that she had not the personal charms which were needed to maintain her husband's interest.

A pretty face was more to him than a deep loving soul.

4.

How strange it were if you had all me, As I have all you in my heart and brain, You, whose least word brought gloom or glee, Who never lifted the hand in vain Will hold mine yet, from over the sea!

5.

Strange, if a face, when you thought of me, Rose like your own face present now, With eyes as dear in their due degree, Much such a mouth, and as bright a brow, Till you saw yourself, while you cried "'Tis She!"

6.

Well, you may, you must, set down to me Love that was life, life that was love; A tenure of breath at your lips' decree, A pa.s.sion to stand as your thoughts approve, A rapture to fall where your foot might be.

-- St. 6. vv. 3-5 express the entire devotion and submissiveness of her love.

7.

But did one touch of such love for me Come in a word or a look of yours, Whose words and looks will, circling, flee Round me and round while life endures,-- Could I fancy "As I feel, thus feels He";

8.

Why, fade you might to a thing like me, And your hair grow these coa.r.s.e hanks of hair, Your skin, this bark of a gnarled tree,-- You might turn myself!--should I know or care, When I should be dead of joy, James Lee?

A Tale.

Epilogue to 'The Two Poets of Croisic'.

1.