THE PATH OF VISION
tion—except the one pointing to Self—for a savior, and chopping commerce, meanwhile, or rhetoric, or gangrened nationalism on their decayed backlogs of life, will they ever become sensible again of the Awakening? The harbinger of Spring, will they know him should he appear? The herald of Summer, will they receive him should he come? O, ye weak races of Man, what are you going to do with the few soul-Titans that are of you and with you ? Will you deliver them as bound captives to a foreign despot? Will you sell them for a decoration? Ye little peoples of the land, ye disinherited and downtrodden children of the earth, the big throbbing heart of the world is with you. So be you with your soul-Titans, and rise to the summits of love and light and freedom and power. (Sometimes I forget that I am writing in English and to people little used to dithyramb and dogma outside a certain form of art.)
But the majestic beauty of my native horizon is marred, alas, by the pitiable
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