LYRICAL AND DRAMATIC. 141
The wall that ever girds Earth’s thought with brass
Is all a silver path my feet beneath,
And o’er its level sward
Of sea-reflecting white flowers and fresh grass
I walk. Man’s darkness is a leathern sheath,
Myself the sun-bright sword !
I have no fear, nor doubt, nor sorrow now,
For I give Self to God—I give my best
Of soul and blood and brain
To my poor Art—there comes to me somehow
This fact: Man’s work is God made manifest;
Life is all Peace again.
And Dreams are beyond life. Their wider scope,
Limitless Empire o’er the world of thought,
Help my desires to press
Beyond all stars toward God and Heaven and Hope;
And in the world-amazing chase is wrought
Somehow—all Happiness.