XLIX
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stood musing in a black world,Not knowing where to direct my feet.And I saw the quick stream of menPouring ceaselessly,Filled with eager faces,A torrent of desire.I called to them,"Where do you go? What do you see?"A thousand voices called to me.A thousand fingers pointed."Look! Look! There!" I know not of it.But, lo! in the far sky shone a radianceIneffable, divine,--A vision painted upon a pall;And sometimes it was,And sometimes it was not.I hesitated.Then from the streamCame roaring voices,Impatient:"Look! Look! There!" So again I saw,And leaped, unhesitant,And struggled and fumedWith outspread clutching fingers.The hard hills tore my flesh;The ways bit my feet.At last I looked again.No radiance in the far sky,Ineffable, divine;No vision painted upon a pall;And always my eyes ached for the light.Then I cried in despair,"I see nothing! Oh, where do I go?"The torrent turned again its faces:"Look! Look! There!"And at the blindness of my spiritThey screamed,"Fool! Fool! Fool!" L You say you are holy,And thatBecause I have not seen you sin.Aye, but there are thoseWho see you sin, my friend.
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