Sounds like a babe's breath drawn,

XXII

How should not she best know, love best,

And best of all souls understand

The very soul of freedom, scanned

Far off, sought out in darkling quest

By men at heart unmanned?

XXIII

They climb and fall, ensnared, enshrouded,

By mists of words and toils they set

To take themselves, till fierce regret

Grows mad with shame, and all their clouded

Red skies hang sunless yet.

[Pg 180]

XXIV

But us the sun, not wholly risen

Nor equal now for all, illumes

With more of light than cloud that looms;

Of light that leads forth souls from prison

And breaks the seals of tombs.

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