<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=381349" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lazarus</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">“No, Mary, there was nothing—not a word. <br>Nothing, and always nothing. Go again <br>Yourself, and he may listen—or at least <br>Look up at you, and let you see his eyes. <br>I might as well have been the sound of rain,<br>A wind among the cedars, or a bird; <br>Or nothing. Mary, make him look at you; <br>And even if he should say that we are nothing, <br>To know that you have heard him will be something. <br>And yet he loved us, and it was for love<br>The Master gave him back. Why did he wait <br>So long before he came? Why did he weep? <br>I thought he would be glad—and Lazarus— <br>To see us all again as he had left us— <br>All as it was, all as it was before.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mary, who felt her sister’s frightened arms <br>Like those of someone drowning who had seized her, <br>Fearing at last they were to fail and sink <br>Together in this fog-stricken sea of strangeness, <br>Fought sadly, with bereaved indignant eyes,<br>To find again the fading shores of home <br>That she had seen but now could see no longer <br>Now she could only gaze into the twilight, <br>And in the dimness know that he was there, <br>Like someone that was not. He who had been<br>Their brother, and was dead, now seemed alive <br>Only in death again—or worse than death; <br>For tombs at least, always until today, <br>Though sad were certain. There was nothing certain <br>For man or God in such a day as this;<br>For there they were alone, and there was he— <br>Alone; and somewhere out of Bethany, <br>The Master—who had come to them so late, <br>Only for love of them and then so slowly, <br>And was for their sake hunted now by men<br>Who feared Him as they feared no other prey— <br>For the world’s sake was hidden. “Better the tomb <br>For Lazarus than life, if this be life,” <br>She thought; and then to Martha, “No, my dear,” <br>She said aloud; “not as it was before.<br>Nothing is ever as it was before, <br>Where Time has been. Here there is more than Time; <br>And we that are so lonely and so far <br>From home, since he is with us here again, <br>Are farther now from him and from ourselves<br>Than we are from the stars. He will not speak <br>Until the spirit that is in him speaks; <br>And we must wait for all we are to know, <br>Or even to learn that we are not to know. <br>Martha, we are too near to this for knowledge,<br>And that is why it is that we must wait. <br>Our friends are coming if we call for them, <br>And there are covers we’ll put over him <br>To make him warmer. We are too young, perhaps, <br>To say that we know better what is best<br>Than he. We do not know how old he is. <br>If you remember what the Master said, <br>Try to believe that we need have no fear. <br>Let me, the selfish and the careless one, <br>Be housewife and a mother for tonight;<br>For I am not so fearful as you are, <br>And I was not so eager.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Martha sank <br>Down at her sister’s feet and there sat watching <br>A flower that had a small familiar name<br>That was as old as memory, but was not <br>The name of what she saw now in its brief <br>And infinite mystery that so frightened her <br>That life became a terror. Tears again <br>Flooded her eyes and overflowed. “No, Mary,”<br>She murmured slowly, hating her own words <br>Before she heard them, “you are not so eager <br>To see our brother as we see him now; <br>Neither is he who gave him back to us. <br>I was to be the simple one, as always,<br>And this was all for me.” She stared again <br>Over among the trees where Lazarus, <br>Who seemed to be a man who was not there, <br>Might have been one more shadow among shadows, <br>If she had not remembered. Then she felt<br>The cool calm hands of Mary on her face, <br>And shivered, wondering if such hands were real. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“The Master loved you as he loved us all, <br>Martha; and you are saying only things <br>That children say when they have had no sleep.<br>Try somehow now to rest a little while; <br>You know that I am here, and that our friends <br>Are coming if I call.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Martha at last <br>Arose, and went with Mary to the door,<br>Where they stood looking off at the same place, <br>And at the same shape that was always there <br>As if it would not ever move or speak, <br>And always would be there. “Mary, go now, <br>Before the dark that will be coming hides him.<br>I am afraid of him out there alone, <br>Unless I see him; and I have forgotten <br>What sleep is. Go now—make him look at you— <br>And I shall hear him if he stirs or whispers. <br>Go!—or I’ll scream and bring all Bethany<br>To come and make him speak. Make him say once <br>That he is glad, and God may say the rest. <br>Though He say I shall sleep, and sleep for ever, <br>I shall not care for that… Go!” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mary, moving<br>Almost as if an angry child had pushed her, <br>Went forward a few steps; and having waited <br>As long as Martha’s eyes would look at hers, <br>Went forward a few more, and a few more; <br>And so, until she came to Lazarus,<br>Who crouched with his face hidden in his hands, <br>Like one that had no face. Before she spoke, <br>Feeling her sister’s eyes that were behind her <br>As if the door where Martha stood were now <br>As far from her as Egypt, Mary turned<br>Once more to see that she was there. Then, softly, <br>Fearing him not so much as wondering <br>What his first word might be, said, “Lazarus, <br>Forgive us if we seemed afraid of you;” <br>And having spoken, pitied her poor speech<br>That had so little seeming gladness in it, <br>So little comfort, and so little love. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was no sign from him that he had heard, <br>Or that he knew that she was there, or cared <br>Whether she spoke to him again or died<br>There at his feet. “We love you, Lazarus, <br>And we are not afraid. The Master said <br>We need not be afraid. Will you not say <br>To me that you are glad? Look, Lazarus! <br>Look at my face, and see me. This is Mary.”<br>She found his hands and held them. They were cool, <br>Like hers, but they were not so calm as hers. <br>Through the white robes in which his friends had wrapped him <br>When he had groped out of that awful sleep, <br>She felt him trembling and she was afraid.<br>At last he sighed; and she prayed hungrily <br>To God that she might hear again the voice <br>Of Lazarus, whose hands were giving her now <br>The recognition of a living pressure <br>That was almost a language. When he spoke,<br>Only one word that she had waited for <br>Came from his lips, and that word was her name. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“I heard them saying, Mary, that he wept <br>Before I woke.” The words were low and shaken, <br>Yet Mary knew that he who uttered them<br>Was Lazarus; and that would be enough <br>Until there should be more… “Who made him come, <br>That he should weep for me?… Was it you, Mary?” <br>The questions held in his incredulous eyes <br>Were more than she would see. She looked away;<br>But she had felt them and should feel for ever, <br>She thought, their cold and lonely desperation <br>That had the bitterness of all cold things <br>That were not cruel. “I should have wept,” he said, <br>“If I had been the Master….”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now she could feel <br>His hands above her hair—the same black hair <br>That once he made a jest of, praising it, <br>While Martha’s busy eyes had left their work <br>To flash with laughing envy. Nothing of that<br>Was to be theirs again; and such a thought <br>Was like the flying by of a quick bird <br>Seen through a shadowy doorway in the twilight. <br>For now she felt his hands upon her head, <br>Like weights of kindness: “I forgive you, Mary….<br>You did not know—Martha could not have known— <br>Only the Master knew…. Where is he now? <br>Yes, I remember. They came after him. <br>May the good God forgive him…. I forgive him. <br>I must; and I may know only from him<br>The burden of all this… Martha was here— <br>But I was not yet here. She was afraid…. <br>Why did he do it, Mary? Was it—you? <br>Was it for you?… Where are the friends I saw? <br>Yes, I remember. They all went away.<br>I made them go away…. Where is he now?… <br>What do I see down there? Do I see Martha— <br>Down by the door?… I must have time for this.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lazarus looked about him fearfully, <br>And then again at Mary, who discovered<br>Awakening apprehension in his eyes, <br>And shivered at his feet. All she had feared <br>Was here; and only in the slow reproach <br>Of his forgiveness lived his gratitude. <br>Why had he asked if it was all for her<br>That he was here? And what had Martha meant? <br>Why had the Master waited? What was coming <br>To Lazarus, and to them, that had not come? <br>What had the Master seen before he came, <br>That he had come so late?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Where is he, Mary?” <br>Lazarus asked again. “Where did he go?” <br>Once more he gazed about him, and once more <br>At Mary for an answer. “Have they found him? <br>Or did he go away because he wished<br>Never to look into my eyes again?… <br>That, I could understand…. Where is he, Mary?” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“I do not know,” she said. “Yet in my heart <br>I know that he is living, as you are living— <br>Living, and here. He is not far from us.<br>He will come back to us and find us all— <br>Lazarus, Martha, Mary—everything— <br>All as it was before. Martha said that. <br>And he said we were not to be afraid.” <br>Lazarus closed his eyes while on his face<br>A tortured adumbration of a smile <br>Flickered an instant. “All as it was before,” <br>He murmured wearily. “Martha said that; <br>And he said you were not to be afraid … <br>Not you… Not you… Why should you be afraid?<br>Give all your little fears, and Martha’s with them, <br>To me; and I will add them unto mine, <br>Like a few rain-drops to Gennesaret.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“If you had frightened me in other ways, <br>Not willing it,” Mary said, “I should have known<br>You still for Lazarus. But who is this? <br>Tell me again that you are Lazarus; <br>And tell me if the Master gave to you <br>No sign of a new joy that shall be coming <br>To this house that he loved. Are you afraid?<br>Are you afraid, who have felt everything— <br>And seen…?” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But Lazarus only shook his head, <br>Staring with his bewildered shining eyes <br>Hard into Mary’s face. “I do not know,<br>Mary,” he said, after a long time. <br>“When I came back, I knew the Master’s eyes <br>Were looking into mine. I looked at his, <br>And there was more in them than I could see. <br>At first I could see nothing but his eyes;<br>Nothing else anywhere was to be seen— <br>Only his eyes. And they looked into mine— <br>Long into mine, Mary, as if he knew.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mary began to be afraid of words <br>As she had never been afraid before<br>Of loneliness or darkness, or of death, <br>But now she must have more of them or die: <br>“He cannot know that there is worse than death,” <br>She said. “And you…” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Yes, there is worse than death.”<br>Said Lazarus; “and that was what he knew; <br>And that is what it was that I could see <br>This morning in his eyes. I was afraid, <br>But not as you are. There is worse than death, <br>Mary; and there is nothing that is good<br>For you in dying while you are still here. <br>Mary, never go back to that again. <br>You would not hear me if I told you more, <br>For I should say it only in a language <br>That you are not to learn by going back.<br>To be a child again is to go forward— <br>And that is much to know. Many grow old, <br>And fade, and go away, not knowing how much <br>That is to know. Mary, the night is coming, <br>And there will soon be darkness all around you.<br>Let us go down where Martha waits for us, <br>And let there be light shining in this house.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He rose, but Mary would not let him go: <br>“Martha, when she came back from here, said only <br>That she heard nothing. And have you no more<br>For Mary now than you had then for Martha? <br>Is Nothing, Lazarus, all you have for me? <br>Was Nothing all you found where you have been? <br>If that be so, what is there worse than that— <br>Or better—if that be so? And why should you,<br>With even our love, go the same dark road over?” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“I could not answer that, if that were so,” <br>Said Lazarus,—“not even if I were God. <br>Why should He care whether I came or stayed, <br>If that were so? Why should the Master weep—<br>For me, or for the world,—or save himself <br>Longer for nothing? And if that were so, <br>Why should a few years’ more mortality <br>Make him a fugitive where flight were needless, <br>Had he but held his peace and given his nod<br>To an old Law that would be new as any? <br>I cannot say the answer to all that; <br>Though I may say that he is not afraid, <br>And that it is not for the joy there is <br>In serving an eternal Ignorance<br>Of our futility that he is here. <br>Is that what you and Martha mean by Nothing? <br>Is that what you are fearing? If that be so, <br>There are more weeds than lentils in your garden. <br>And one whose weeds are laughing at his harvest<br>May as well have no garden; for not there <br>Shall he be gleaning the few bits and orts <br>Of life that are to save him. For my part, <br>I am again with you, here among shadows <br>That will not always be so dark as this;<br>Though now I see there’s yet an evil in me <br>That made me let you be afraid of me. <br>No, I was not afraid—not even of life. <br>I thought I was…I must have time for this; <br>And all the time there is will not be long.<br>I cannot tell you what the Master saw <br>This morning in my eyes. I do not know. <br>I cannot yet say how far I have gone, <br>Or why it is that I am here again, <br>Or where the old road leads. I do not know.<br>I know that when I did come back, I saw <br>His eyes again among the trees and faces— <br>Only his eyes; and they looked into mine— <br>Long into mine—long, long, as if he knew.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edwin+Arlington+Robinson">Edwin Arlington Robinson</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=381349" data-title="Lazarus de Edwin Arlington Robinson" data-description="“No, Mary, there was nothing—not a word. Nothing, and always nothing. Go again Yourself, and he may listen—or at least Look up at you, and let you see his eyes. I might as well have been the sound of rain, A wind among the cedars, or a b..."></div> </div> </div>

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