With warm desire to please the captious ones, Whose fervency the finished fabric suns, With ardent conjurations she besought The thronging sprites, that feed the loom of thought, To gather shining woof, from climes afar— From lands where all things bright and wondrous are— To seek the dame whose tireless hand doth hold The distaff yielding threads of fine spun gold, And bring the gathered treasures in to her, All sweet with far-fetched frankincense and myrrh: Instead of quest in distant lands for woof From near they brought, and with it sharp reproof. “The glow and flame of thy desire Is lit by an unholy fire. We bring thee shreds for needs of life With which its ways are ever rife; Weave these as we shall bring them in (None leads with Lotus-charm to sin) And when the web falls from thy care, Who needs takes self-apportioned share. If one is girt by it for storm, Or one lone home, made glad and warm— If one bruised heart finds through it balm, One groping soul, up-lifting psalm, Then, thank thy God that thou hast wrought The humble shreds that we have brought.” Mystery. All the earth’s history Is mingled with mystery; Thrid its long pathways thro’ Time’s gathered pages, Struggle with theories,—delve as you will, Wrapped in uncertainty, mystery still, Baffling the lore of philosophy’s sages. Wishes ungratified, Longings unsatisfied; Search is untiring and effort is eager, Reaching for aye for the far, unattained, Feeling the spirit to narrowness chained,— All we may know, to the unknown is meager. Yet, human pomposity, Rich in verbosity, Leads us afar, thro’ the limitless spaces, Parting so boldly the cometal robes, Shows us their bodies, as infantile globes, Sportively seeking maturity’s places. It measures Infinity, Questions Divinity—Talks of the universe at its inception; Theory, feeling the pulse of the Earth, Tells us how long since the planet had birth And when we may look for its utter disruption. Yet LIFE’S remote decimal— The infinitesimal, Puzzles the agnost for Nature’s great mother; Never a blade without fertilized germ,— Never a seed without blossoming term,— Each is a subsequent unto the other. * * * * * Most wondrous, mysterious, Throned and imperious, Mind, in the beautiful temple of Being, Rules o’er its realm with absolute sway Till, broken and crumbling, the structure of clay, Then swift on the wings of the silences fleeing. Thought, strained to intensity, Ranging immensity, Asks for their home—for the spirit’s bright heaven; A speck in the universe—our little earth, ’Mong millions, all grander and greater of girth— Will God’s central glory to _this_ one be given?