First to verge upward to a man,

These thoughts were mine—to dwell alone,

My spirit on its lordly throne,

Hating the vain stir, fierce and loud,

The din of the tumultuous crowd;

And how I thought to arm my soul,

And stablish it in self-controul;

And said I would obey the right,

And would be strong in wisdom’s might,

And bow unto mine own heart’s law,

And keep my heart from speck or flaw,

That in its mirror I might find

A reflex of the Eternal mind,

A glass to give me back the truth—

And how before me from my youth

A phantom ever on the wing,

Appearing now, now vanishing,{18}

{18}

Had flitted, looking out from shrine,

From painting, or from work divine

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