Chapter III

They learn to live who learn to contemplate, For contemplation is the unconfined God who creates us. To the growing mind Freedom to think is fate, And all that age and after-knowledge augurate Lies in a little dream of youth enshrined: That dream to nourish with the skilful rule Of love--is school.

Eben, in mystic tumult of his teens, Stood bursting--like a ripe seed--into soul. All his life long he had watched the great hills roll Their shadows, tints and sheens By sun- and moonrise; yet the bane of hoeing beans, And round of joyless chores, his father’s toll, Blotted their beauty; nature was as naught: He had never _thought_.

But now he climbed his boyhood’s castle tower And knocked. Ah, well then for his after-fate That one of nature’s masters opened the gate, Where like an April shower Live influence quickened all his earth-blind seed to power. Strangely his sense of truth grew passionate, And like a young bull, led in yoke to drink, He bowed to think.

There also bowed their heads with him to quaff-- The snorting herd! And many a wholesome grip He had of rivalry and fellowship. Often the game was rough, But Eben tossed his horns and never balked the cuff; For still through play and task his Dream would slip-- A radiant Herdsman, guiding destiny To his degree.