Oran

This madness! I bethink me of the past, Of all the great and noble who have toil'd Amid the deep dark mines of burning thought, Wearing out life to quarry forth the Truth; Of all the seers and watchers, early and late Waiting with eager blood-hot eyes the light Rising afar in some untrodden East, Full of divine and precious influence, Calling, like Mezzuin from his minaret, The thankless world to worship and be glad; Of all the patient thinkers of the earth Who talk'd with Wisdom like familiar friends, Until their voices unaccustom'd grew, And men stared blankly at them as they pass'd: I do bethink me of them all, and know How each walk'd through his labyrinth of scorn, And was accounted mad before all men. But patience!—Winter bears within its breast The nascent seeds of golden harvest-time.

This only shall I tell you of my ways— Straying, now here, now there, 'mid science' wealth, I have discover'd a vast hidden power— A power that perfected shall surely work Great revolution in all human laws,— Where stop its courses I as yet know not; 'Tis to me like the sun, that all the day Shines godlike in my vision, and, at night, Though darkness hide its brightness, still, I feel, Shines on in glory over other spheres; It is a power beneficent and good, That grants to spirit infinite control Over all matter, and that frees the soul From its flesh shackles, and its sensuous means. What else its influences, or for health, For happiness, or blessing, I say not— Save that such glimpses of vast powers unknown Dawn on my wondering mind, that like a man Standing upon some giddy pinnacle, With a whole world seen faint and small below, I close mine eyes for very fear and joy. To her, my Mabel, do I bear in love Some first-fruits of my finding—make her rich, That, gazing through her eyes, I may behold How sweet is heaven, how dear is happiness. This is the sum of that I work on her; Then, though I thank you for your good intent, Leave me untroubled to my life of thought, Leave her all trustful in the arms of love.