Truth's Guiding Star

In the dim twilight of our troubled life. Where none may see with vision wholly dear, And most must tread a path with pitfalls rife, Where scarce a star their gloomy path doth cheer; And those who loudliest do themselves proclaim As sole custodians of the keys of truth, Most oft are hollow windbags skilled to frame Poor sophistries or specious falsehoods smooth,— I find no better guidance than is found In the assurance that whate'er may chance A soul resolved truth's heights and depths to sound Fearless, nor viewing consequence askance, Is armed against sick thoughts and narrow creeds, And all the ills that morbid fancy breeds.