Feels he needs invoke our aid,

For creation, now he tells us,

By itself was surely made;—

Blind he is to Nature’s teachings,

And so wise in his conceit

That he would forget the lessons

Taught by wayside flowers sweet;

By the river and the mountain

And the myriad things that creep

Upon the earth. And this wondrous

Human being calls himself but a machine,

Classed among the things he fashions

From the metals earth doth yield.

Ah, his very heart is hardening—

[Pg 32]

Love no longer can hold sway

When the heir of all creation

Says he’s only made of clay.”

*     *     *     *

I awoke from my light slumber

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