Sage or Poet

IN yon woody hermitage
Dwell a poet and a sage :
Peaceful inmates, mark them well !
Room enough within their cell, —
Room enough for courteous foes.
In or out, each singly goes;
Never yet the twain were seen
Walking in the forest green;
Or beneath the roof were met,
Though the time were cold and wet.

Go there as the poet’s guest,
Share his feast and share his rest,
Drinking many a jocund bout;
Stay until the stars come out,
Ay, until next morning’s sun, —
You ’ll not see that other one,
Him of keen and narrow eye,
Lip austere and discourse high.

Go there as the sage’s guest,
He will serve you with his best;
Spend the white December days
By his crackling sere-wood blaze ;
Listening what the wind harp sings
When the North sweeps o’er its strings:
You may come, and come again,
Or in sunshine, snow, or rain,
But you may not ever meet,
At the door or ingle-seat,
Him whose thought goes lighter shod
Thau the plumed errand god.

Read the legend as you run :
Sage and poet are but one ;
He you seek is found within, —
Sage and poet know their kin.