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To choke the springs of action, bind in turn
The restless tidal surge of human thought
And turn it to a fell Sargossa Sea,
Leaving for clean, clear depth of wave that was,
Struck by the sun to living emerald
A sickly breathing marsh malarial
Lit with fantasmal fires of the fen.
Libanius:
And that faint flickering fire they dare oppose
These Galileansto our Helios!
What say the priests of other mysteries?
'Come Clean of heart, and hand, Discreet of tongue.
Draw nigh Devout, with happy holy awe
And raise yourself to fellowship with God.
He stoops not us-ward, we must rise to Him.'
But their God comes in likeness of a man
To Sinner sent and witless, not to the Sage
Of stainless life and purpose.
