IX. 
This was a dream—and how may I attain ? 
How make myself a worthy acolyte ? 
How from my body shall my soul take flight, 
Being constrained in this devouring chain 
Of selfishness ?  How purge the spirit quite 
Of gross desires 
That eat into the heart with their corrupting fires ? 
 
X. 
Old Buddh gave command ; Jehovah spake ; 
Strange distant gods that are not dead to-day 
Added their voices ; Heaven’s desart way 
Man wins not but by sorrow—let him break 
The golden image with the feet of clay ! 
Let him despise 
That earthen vessel which the potter marred—and rise ! 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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