Men and Women
 Just when we are safest, there's a sunset-touch, A fancy from a flower-bell, some one's death, A chorus-ending from Euripides—      And that's enough for fifty hopes and fears As old and new at once as nature's self, To rap and knock and enter in our soul, Take hands and dance there, a fantastic ring, Round the ancient idol, on his base again—      The grand Perhaps! We look on helplessly. 190 There the old misgivings, crooked questions are—      This good God—what he could do, if he would, Would, if he could—then must have done long since:      If so, when, where and how? some way must be—      Once feel about, and soon or late you hit Some sense, in which it might be, after all. Why not, "The Way, the Truth, the Life?"                                           —That way Over the mountain, which who stands upon Is apt to doubt if it be meant for a road; While, if he views it from the waste itself, 200 Up goes the line there, plain from base to brow, Not vague, mistakable! what's a break or two Seen from the unbroken desert either side? And then (to bring in fresh philosophy)      What if the breaks themselves should prove at last The most consummate of contrivances To train a man's eye, teach him what is faith? And so we stumble at truth's very test! All we have gained then by our unbelief Is a life of doubt diversified by faith, 210 For one of faith diversified by doubt:      We called the chess-board white—we call it black.         "Well," you rejoin, "the end's no worse, at least; We've reason for both colors on the board:      Why not confess then, where I drop the faith And you the doubt, that I'm as right as you?"         Because, friend, in the next place, this being so, And both things even—faith and unbelief Left to a man's choice—we'll proceed a step, Returning to our image, which I like. 220 A man's choice, yes—but a cabin-passenger's—      The man made for the special life o' the world—      Do you forget him? I remember though! Consult our ship's conditions and you find One and but one choice suitable to all; The choice, that you unluckily prefer, Turning things topsy-turvy—they or it Going to the ground. Belief or unbelief Bears upon life, determines its whole course, Begins at its beginning. See the world 230 Such as it is—you made it not, nor I; I mean to take it as it is—and you, Not so you'll take it—though you get naught else. I know the special kind of life I like, What suits the most my idiosyncrasy, Brings out the best of me and 
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