And out of chaos thought a world,To us be totally unfurled?And all we fail to comprehend,Shall such a mind be asked to bendDown to, unravel, and untwine?If those who highest hold His sign,Who praise Him most with loudest tongueAre granted no high place amongThe crowd, shall we be bitter then?The puzzle shall grow simple whenThe soul discards the ways of dust.There is no gain in doubt; but trustIs our one magic wand. Through itWe and eternity are knit,Death made a myth, and darkness lit.The slave can meet the monarch's gazeWith equal pride, dreaming to daysWhen slave and monarch both shall be,Transmuted everlastingly,A single reed blown on to singThe glory of the only King."
We had not, in the stealthy gloomOf deepening night, that shot our roomWith queerly capering shadows through,Noticed the form that wavered toAnd fro on weak, unsteady feet
87
