Xxv

But thy peculiar greatness more than these, By thinking pregnant with creative art, Subduing chance and moulding part to part, Hath Cosmic in it, Plato, harmonies That wake the dim immortal memories We bring from the Eternal, whence we start The round of Being, bearing in our heart The echoes of the everlasting seas. Here stands no accidental word. And so, While theme with theme grows twisted and entwined, Is freedom perfected. We gaze, and lo, The argument is off before the wind, Like some great trireme tacking endlessly, Yet ever headed for Eternity.

HESEPE, 14th June