Only one labouring knows. The base, tumultuous wreck Of rock and forest shows; The summit, a single peak. So sought, so seen, so found. And what the end so high? A summit splendour crown’d Between the earth and sky, Where with sidereal blaze The mistless planets glow, And stars unsully’d gaze On unpolluted snow. No strife the vast reveals But perfect peace indeed— The thunder of spinning wheels At rest in eternal speed. * * * * * THE GAINS OF TIME Loll’d in the lap of home; Full-fed with fruits of time Ripen’d on labour’d loam By others, since the prime; Ingrate, we give no thought To all these golden things The toiling past hath brought, The toiling present brings. But on this silent shore And waste barbarian, We hear the engines roar And mind the might of man. So one in savage lands: He enters all alone; No weapon in his hands. The secret spears unthrown, The creepers lose their guile, Seeing his face, distrest They know not why. A smile, A sign or two, a jest, And all on bended knees Withhold the savage stroke. With beating heart he sees The lessening steamer-smoke. He draws a power to be From powers sacrificed; And in his eyes we see The teaching of the Christ, And all the great beside, The oracles of time From Delphic clefts have cried Or crasht in thundering rhyme. A book his finger parts; He moves thro’ adverse cries; Master of many arts And careless of the skies. What are thy mighty deeds, O Past, thy gains, O Time? A dust of ruin’d creeds, A scroll or two of rhyme? A temple earthquake-dasht? A false record of things? A picture lightning-flasht Of cruel eyes of kings? No, these: a wiser rule; A science of ampler span; A heart more pitiful; More mind; a nobler man. * * * * * INVOCATION I Thee most we honour, thee, Great Science. Hold thy way. The end thou canst not see, But in the end the day. Seek without seeking ends, And shatter without ruth; On thee our fate depends; Be faithful, keep the truth. We think it false to dream Beyond the likely fact; We grant thee, Truth, supreme, Whatever thou exact. I pray thee, Truth, control My destiny distraught, And move my sightless soul In thy high ways of thought. Hold thou my hand. I go Wherever thou wilt guide, Tho’ bleak the bitter snow And black the mountain side. Or if thou bid’st descend, I fear not for myself, Tho’ raging thunders rend And lightnings lash, the gulf.