XXIV. Too Much.

I should have been too glad, I see,
Too lifted for the scant degree
    Of life's penurious round;
My little circuit would have shamed
This new circumference, have blamed
    The homelier time behind.

I should have been too saved, I see,
Too rescued; fear too dim to me
    That I could spell the prayer
I knew so perfect yesterday, --
That scalding one, "Sabachthani,"
    Recited fluent here.

Earth would have been too much, I see,
And heaven not enough for me;
    I should have had the joy
Without the fear to justify, --
The palm without the Calvary;
    So, Saviour, crucify.

Defeat whets victory, they say;
The reefs in old Gethsemane
    Endear the shore beyond.
'T is beggars banquets best define;
'T is thirsting vitalizes wine, --
    Faith faints to understand.