(30)

All life is voyaging, all life in motion, Moon, stars, and creatures of air and ocean.

To you the champion, the lord of battle, Bright angels offer their swords’ devotion

But of that blindness, that caravan spirit! Of your own greatness you have no notion.

How long this bondage to darkness? Choose now: A prince’s scepter,— a hermit’s potion.

I know our priesthood, how faint in action, In sermons pouring a languid lotion.