The Excellent Way

Man’s mind that hath this earth for home Hath too its far-spread starry dome Where thought is lost in going free, Prison’d but by infinity. He first in slumbrous babyhood Took conscience of his heavenly good; Then with his sins grown up to youth Wept at the vision of God’s truth.

Soon in his heart new hopes awoke As poet sang or prophet spoke: Temples arose and stone he taught To stand agaze in trancèd thought: He won the trembling air to tell Of far passions ineffable, Feeding the hungry things of sense With instincts of omniscience, Immortal modes that should abide Cherish’d by love and pious pride, That unborn children might inherit The triumph of his holy spirit, Outbidding Nature, to entice Her soul from her own Paradise, Till her wild face had fallen to shame Had he not praised her in God’s name.

Alas! poor man, what blockish curse Would violate thy universe, To enchain thy freedom and entomb Thy pleasance in devouring gloom? Behold thy savage foes of yore With woes of pestilence and war, Siva and Moloch, Odin and Thor, Rise from their graves to greet amain The deeds that give them life again.

Poor man, sunk deeper than thy slime In blood and hate, in terror and crime, Thou who wert lifted on the wings Of thy desire, the king of kings, In promise beyond ken sublime: O thou man-soul, who mightest climb To heavenly happiness, whereof Thine easy path were Mirth and Love!

October, 1918.