The Sorry Scheme
Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield
One glimpse---if dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd,
To which the fainting Traveller might spring,
As springs the trampled herbage of the field!
Would but some wingéd Angel ere too late
Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate,
And make the stern Recorder otherwise
Enregister, or quite obliterate!
Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits---and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
Vedder's note: Looking around and seeing such creatures as the
buzzard, which only preys on the helpless or already wounded
creatures, and beholding everywhere life secured by another's death,
Love flies to the heart of Man, where alone in Nature it finds a refuge.