II
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ever until our souls are strong enoughTo plunge into the crater of the Scheme --Triumphant in the flash there to redeemLove's handsel and forevermore to slough,Like cerements at a played-out masque, the roughAnd reptile skins of us whereon we setThe stigma of scared years -- are we to getWhere atoms and the ages are one stuff. Nor ever shall we know the cursed wasteOf life in the beneficence divineOf starlight and of sunlight and soul-shineThat we have squandered in sin's frail distress,Till we have drunk, and trembled at the taste,The mead of Thought's prophetic endlessness.
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