What Is the Use?

I saw a man, by some accounted wise,
For some things said and done before their eyes,
Quite overcast, and in a restless muse,
Pacing a path about,
And often giving out:
"What is the use!"
Then I, with true respect: What meanest thou
By those strange words, and that unsettled brow?
Health, wealth, the fair esteem of ample views,
To these things thou art born.
But he as one forlorn:
"What is the use?"
"I have surveyed the sages and their books,
Man, and the natural world of woods and brooks,
Seeking that perfect good that I would choose;
But find no perfect good,
Settled and understood.
What is the use?
"Life, in a poise, hangs trembling on the beam,
Even in a breath bounding to each extreme
Of joy and sorrow; therefore I refuse
All beaten ways of bliss,
And only answer this:
What is the use?
"The hoodwinked world is seeking happiness.
'Which way!' they cry, 'here!' 'no!' 'there!'
'who can guess?'
And so they grope, and grope, and grope, and cruise
On, on, till life is lost,
At blindman's with a ghost.
What is the use?
"Love first,with most,then wealth, distinction, fame,
Quicken the blood and spirit on the game.
Some try them all, and all alike accuse —
'I have been all,' said one,
'And find that all is none.'
What is the use?
"In woman's love we sweetly are undone;
Willing to attract, but harder to be won,
Harder to keep is she whose love we choose.
Loves are like flowers that grow
In soils on fire below.
What is the use?
"Some pray for wealth, and seem to pray aright;
They heap until themselves are out of sight;
Yet stand, in charities, not over shoes,
And ask of their old age
As an old ledger page,
What is the use?....
"The strife for fame and the high praise of power,
Is as a man, who, panting up a tower,
Bears a great stone, then, straining all his thews,
Heaves it, and sees it make
A splashing in a lake.
What is the use?....
"Should some new star, in the fair evening sky
Kindle a blaze, startling so keen an eye
Of flamings eminent, athwart the dews,
Our thoughts would say; No doubt
That star will soon burn out.
What is the use?
"Who'll care for me, when I am dead and gone?
Not many now, and surely, soon, not one;
And should I sing like an immortal Muse,
Men, if they read the line,
Read for their good, not mine;
What is the use? ....
"Spirit of Beauty! Breath of golden lyres!
Perpetual tremble of immortal wires!
Divinely torturing rapture of the Muse!
Conspicuous wretchedness!
Thou starry, sole success! —
What is the use!
"Doth not all struggle tell, upon its brow,
That he who makes it is not easy now,
But hopes to be? Vain hope that dost abuse!
Coquetting with thine eyes,
And fooling him who sighs.
What is the use?
"Go pry the lintels of the pyramids;
Lift the old kings' mysterious coffin lids —
This dust was theirs whose names these stones confuse,
These mighty monuments
Of mighty discontents.
What is the use?
"Did not he sum it all, whose Gate of Pearls
Blazed royal Ophir, Tyre, and Syrian girls —
The great, wise, famous monarch of the Jews?
Though rolled in grandeur vast,
He said of all, at last:
What is the use?
". O! but to take, of life, the natural good,
Even as a hermit caverned in a wood,
More sweetly fills my sober-suited views,
Than sweating to attain
Any luxurious pain.
What is the use?
"Give me a hermit's life, without his beads —
His lantern-jawed, and moral-mouthing creeds;
Systems and creeds the natural heart abuse.
What need of any book,
Or spiritual crook?
What is the use?
"I love, and God is love; and I behold
Man, Nature, God, one triple chain of gold —
Nature in all sole oracle and muse.
What should I seek, at all,
More than is natural?
What is the use?"
Seeing this man so heathenly inclined —
So wilted in the mood of a good mind,
I felt a kind of heat of earnest thought;
And studying in reply,
Answered him, eye to eye:
Thou dost amaze me that thou dost mistake
The wandering rivers for the fountain lake.
What is the end of living? — happiness?
An end that none attain,
Argues a purpose vain.
Plainly, this world is not a scope for bliss,
But duty. Yet we see not all that is,
Or may be, some day, if we love the light.
What man is, in desires,
Whispers where man aspires.
But what and where are we? what now — to-day?
Souls on a globe that spins our lives away —
A multitudinous world, where Heaven and Hell,
Strangely in battle met,
Their gonfalons have set.
Dust though we are, and shall return to dust,
Yet being born to battles, fight we must;
Under which ensign is our only choice.
We know to wage our best,
God only knows the rest.
Then since we see about us sin and dole,
And some things good, why not, with hand and soul,
Wrestle and succor out of wrong and sorrow —,
Grasping the swords of strife,
Making the most of life?
Yea, all that we can wield is worth the end,
If sought as God's and man's most loyal friend.
Naked we come into the world, and take
Weapons of various skill —
Let us not use them ill.
As for the creeds, Nature is dark at best;
And darker still is the deep human breast.
Therefore consider well of creeds and books,
Lest thou mayst somewhat fail
Of things beyond the vail.
Nature was dark to the dim starry age
Of wistful Job; and that Athenian sage,
Pensive in piteous thought of Faith's distress;
For still she cried, with tears:
"More light, ye crystal spheres!"
But rouse thee, man! Shake off this hideous death!
Be man! Stand up! Draw in a mighty breath!
This world has quite enough emasculate hands,
Dallying with doubt and sin.
Come — here is work — begin!
Come, here is work — and a rank field — begin.
Put thou thine edge to the great weeds of sin;
So shalt thou find the use of life, and see
Thy Lord, at set of sun,
Approach and say: "Well done!"
This at the last: They clutch the sapless fruit,
Ashes and dust of the Dead Sea, who suit
Their course of life to compass happiness;
But be it understood
That, to be greatly good,
All is the use.