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By men whose eyes see far and wide new cities shall be founded: Not by old Kufa or Baghdad is my thought’s vision bounded.

Rash youth, new-fangled learning, giddy pleasure, gaudy plume,— With these, while these still swarm, the Frankish wine-shop is surrounded.

Not with philosopher, nor with priest, my business; one lays waste The heart, and one sows discord to keep mind and soul confounded;

And for the Pharisee—far from this poor worm be disrespect! But how to enfranchise Man, is all the problem I have sounded.

The fleshpots of the wealthy are for sale about the world; Who bears love’s toils and pangs earns wealth that God’s hand has compounded.

I have laid bare such mysteries as the hermit learns, that thought, In cloister or in college, in true freedom may be grounded.

No fastings of Mahatmas will destroy the Brahmins’ sway; Vainly, when Moses holds no rod, have all his words resounded!