Xxi

Justice! the very sound brings back the throes Of that tremendous season when Youth sees His world collapse, and beaten to his knees He takes the bolt of doubt, all that he knows, That he knows nothing. Underneath the blows Of thought I laboured long in labouring seas, Pledging my soul to martyred Socrates; And o’er night’s face the star of Plato rose. This much of truth I still divined, that here Was internecine conflict; only doubt Strained to the uttermost a path could clear To that last Deep where wind and tide give out, And freighted Time drops softly out to sea, A moving image of Eternity.

HESEPE, 12th June