WHAT all men think
   ‘Tis mine to say;
To me the dark
  Is as the day,
  To-morrow is as yesterday.

Where men are blind
    I only see;
Dumb mouth, deaf ears
   Are naught to me;
   It is enough alone to be.

What all men dream
   I realize;
And mortals wait
   Till their dead eyes
   Open upon the great surprise.

Of my vast height
   The poets rhyme;
With feeble feet
   They vainly climb,
With tired steps, my steep of time.

Where men believe
   ‘Tis mine to know;
Mine are the peaks
   That burn and glow,
   With their volcanoes in the snow,

Mine is the soul
   Of fire; lit
By the unknown;
   But out of it
   Upon the heart the known is writ.

This work was published before January 1, 1928, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.

Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse