  Warm in this marble, that is stone no more, Life at wound-pause lifts ear to woundless mind; Backward the ages their slow clew unwind, And step by step, and star by star, lead o'er The trail again, where eyeless passion tore Its red way to a soul. Mist-bound and blind No more, the thinker waits, and God grown kind Flashes a foot-print where He goes before. Not to be followed! Falls the cloud again; Folds the stern form around the striving doubt, And curve betrays to curve the silent birth That shall be voice to later times and men; While lone in unlit dark, within, without, He sits immortal on a godless earth. |
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