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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339852" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Finis Exoptatus</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Boot and saddle, see, the slanting<br>Rays begin to fall,<br>Flinging lights and colours flaunting<br>Through the shadows tall.<br>Onward ! onward ! must we travel ?<br>When will come the goal ?<br>Riddle I may not unravel,<br>Cease to vex my soul.<br> <br>Harshly break those peals of laughter<br>From the jays aloft,<br>Can we guess what they cry after ?<br>We have heard them oft ;<br>Perhaps some strain of rude thanksgiving<br>Mingles in their song,<br>Are they glad that they are living ?<br>Are they right or wrong ?<br>Right, 'tis joy that makes them call so,<br>Why should they be sad ?<br>Certes ! we are living also,<br>Shall not we be glad ?<br>Onward ! onward ! must we travel ?<br>Is the goal more near ?<br>Riddle we may not unravel,<br>Why so dark and drear ?<br> <br>Yon small bird his hymn outpouring,<br>On the branch close by,<br>Recks not for the kestrel soaring<br>In the nether sky,<br>Though the hawk with wings extended<br>Poises over head,<br>Motionless as though suspended<br>By a viewless thread.<br>See, he stoops, nay, shooting forward<br>With the arrow's flight,<br>Swift and straight away to nor'ward<br>Sails he out of sight.<br>Onward ! onward ! thus we travel,<br>Comes the goal more nigh ?<br>Riddle we may not unravel,<br>Who shall make reply ?<br> <br>Ha ! Friend Ephraim, saint or sinner,<br>Tell me if you can—<br>Tho' we may not judge the inner<br>By the outer man,<br>Yet by girth of broadcloth ample,<br>And by cheeks that shine,<br>Surely you set no example<br>In the fasting line—<br> <br>Could you, like yon bird, discov'ring,<br>Fate as close at hand,<br>As the kestrel o'er him hov'ring,<br>Still, as he did, stand ?<br>Trusting grandly, singing gaily,<br>Confident and calm,<br>Not one false note in your daily<br>Hymn or weekly psalm ?<br> <br>Oft your oily tones are heard in<br>Chapel, where you preach,<br>This the everlasting burden<br>Of the tale you teach :<br>We are d———d, our sins are deadly,<br>You alone are heal'd—<br>'Twas not thus their gospel redly<br>Saints and martyrs seal'd.<br>You had seem'd more like a martyr,<br>Than you seem to us,<br>To the beasts that caught a Tartar,<br>Once at Ephesus !<br>Rather than the stout apostle<br>Of the Gentiles, who,<br>Pagan-like, could cuff and wrestle,<br>They'd have chosen you.<br> <br>Yet, I ween, on such occasion,<br>Your dissenting voice<br>Would have been, in mild persuasion,<br>Raised against their choice ;<br>Man of peace, and man of merit,<br>Pompous, wise, and grave,<br>Ephraim ! is it flesh or spirit<br>You strive most to save ?<br>Vain is half this care and caution<br>O'er the earthly shell,<br>We can neither baffle nor shun<br>Dark-plumed Azrael.<br>Onward ! onward ! still we wander,<br>Nearer draws the goal ;<br>Half the riddle's read, we ponder<br>Vainly on the whole.<br> <br>Eastward ! in the pink horizon,<br>Fleecy hillocks shame<br>This dim range dull earth that lies on,<br>Tinged with rosy flame.<br>Westward ! as a stricken giant<br>Stoops his bloody crest,<br>And tho' vanquished, frowns defiant,<br>Sinks the sun to rest.<br>Distant, yet approaching quickly,<br>From the shades that lurk,<br>Like a black pall gathers thickly,<br>Night, when none may work.<br>Soon our restless occupation<br>Shall have ceas'd to be ;<br>Units ! in God's vast creation,<br>Ciphers ! what are we ?<br>Onward ! onward ! oh ! faint-hearted ;<br>Nearer and more near<br>Has the goal drawn since we started,<br>Be of better cheer.<br> <br>Preacher ! all forbearance ask, for<br>All are worthless found,<br>Man must ay take man to task for<br>Faults while earth goes round.<br>On this dank soil thistles muster,<br>Thorns are broadcast sown ;<br>Seek not figs where thistles cluster,<br>Grapes where thorns have grown.<br> <br>Sun and rain and dew from heaven,<br>Light and shade and air,<br>Heat and moisture freely given,<br>Thorns and thistles share.<br>Vegetation rank and rotten<br>Feels the cheering ray ;<br>Not uncared for, unforgotten,<br>We, too, have our day.<br>Unforgotten ! though we cumber<br>Earth, we work His will.<br>Shall we sleep through night's long slumber<br>Unforgotten still ?<br>Onward ! onward ! toiling ever,<br>Weary steps and slow,<br>Doubting oft, despairing never,<br>To the goal we go !<br> <br>Hark ! the bells on distant cattle<br>Waft across the range,<br>Through the golden-tufted wattle,<br>Music low and strange ;<br>Like the marriage peal of fairies<br>Comes the tinkling sound,<br>Or like chimes of sweet St. Mary's<br>On far English ground.<br>How my courser champs the snaffle,<br>And with nostril spread,<br>Snorts and scarcely seems to ruffle<br>Fern leaves with his tread ;<br>Cool and pleasant on his haunches<br>Blows the evening breeze,<br>Through the overhanging branches<br>Of the wattle trees :<br>Onward ! to the Southern Ocean,<br>Glides the breath of Spring.<br>Onward, with a dreary motion,<br>I, too, glide and sing—<br>Forward ! forward ! still we wander—<br>Tinted hills that lie<br>In the red horizon yonder—<br>Is the goal so nigh ?<br> <br>Whisper, spring-wind, softly singing,<br>Whisper in my ear ;<br>Respite and nepenthe bringing,<br>Can the goal be near ?<br>Laden with the dew of vespers,<br>From the fragrant sky,<br>In my ear the wind that whispers<br>Seems to make reply—<br> <br>'Question not, but live and labour<br>Till yon goal be won,<br>Helping every feeble neighbour,<br>Seeking help from none ;<br>Life is mostly froth and bubble,<br>Two things stand like stone :<br>Kindness in another's trouble.<br>Courage in your own.'<br> <br>Courage, comrades, this is certain,<br>All is for the best—<br>There are lights behind the curtain—<br>Gentiles let us rest.<br>As the smoke-rack veers to seaward<br>From 'the ancient clay',<br>With its moral drifting leeward,<br>Ends the wanderer's lay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Adam+Lindsay+Gordon">Adam Lindsay Gordon</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=339852" data-title="Finis Exoptatus de Adam Lindsay Gordon" data-description="Boot and saddle, see, the slanting
Rays begin to fall,
Flinging lights and colours flaunting
Through the shadows tall.
Onward ! onward ! must we travel ?
When will come the goal ?
Riddle I may not unravel,
Cease to vex my soul.
 
Harshly break tho..."></div>
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