  Joy of your opulent atoms! wouldst thou dare Say that Thought also of atoms self-became, Waving to soul as light had the eye in aim; And so with things of bodily sense compare Those native notions that the heavens declare, Space and Time, Beauty and God—Praise we his name!— Real ideas, that on tongues of flame From out mind’s cooling paste leapt unaware? Thy spirit, Democritus, orb’d in the eterne Illimitable galaxy of night Shineth undimm’d where greater splendours burn Of sage and poet: by their influence bright We are held; and pouring from his quenchless urn Christ with immortal love-beams laves the height. 1919. |
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