Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869–1935). Collected Poems. 1921.
V. The Town Down the River25. Vickerys Mountain
B
And through the long twilight
Vickery sits with folded hands,
And Vickery’s eyes are bright.
On earth as yet may know:
There’s a golden word that he never tells,
And a gift that he will not show.
He smiles, and well he may;
For to Vickery once a sick man came
Who did not go away.
“Vickery,” said the guest,
“You know as you live what’s left of me—
And you shall know the rest.
To this we call the end.
No doubt you have found me troublesome,
But you’ve also found a friend;
The gold that is in view;
The mountain there and I shall make
A golden man of you.
Who neither frets nor feels;
And you shall move among your kind
With hundreds at your heels.
Tells all that need be told;
So, Vickery, take the way that’s clear.
And be a man of gold.”
To the far mountain-side,
And wept a tear for worthy men
Defeated and defied.
Have come, and they have gone;
But Vickery counts no lost arrears:
He lingers and lives on.
Familiar as a face.
Blue, but Vickery knows what sands
Are golden at its base.
When he shall walk with kings.
Vickery smiles—and well he may.
The life-caged linnet sings.
To go for what is his;
But hovering, unseen hands at home
Will hold him where he is.
And a gift that he will not show.
All to be given to some one else—
And Vickery not to know.