Careless as an infant, cleaving To my pilgrim staff alone. For I placed my mighty hope in Dim and holy words of faith,    "Wander forth—the way is open, Ever on the upward path—    Till thou gain the golden portal, Till its gates unclose to thee. There the earthly and the mortal, Deathless and divine shall be!"    Night on morning stole, on stealeth, Never, never stand I still, And the future yet concealeth, What I seek, and what I will! Mount on mount arose before me, Torrents hemmed me every side, But I built a bridge that bore me O'er the roaring tempest-tide. Towards the east I reached a river, On its shores I did not rest;    Faith from danger can deliver, And I trusted to its breast. Drifted in the whirling motion, Seas themselves around me roll—    Wide and wider spreads the ocean, Far and farther flies the goal. While I live is never given Bridge or wave the goal to near—    Earth will never meet the heaven, Never can the there be here! 

            THE IDEALS. And wilt thou, faithless one, then, leave me, With all thy magic phantasy,—    With all the thoughts that joy or grieve me, Wilt thou with all forever fly? Can naught delay thine onward motion, Thou golden time of life's young dream? In vain! eternity's wide ocean Ceaselessly drowns thy rolling stream. The glorious suns my youth enchanting Have set in never-ending night; Those blest ideals now are wanting That swelled my heart with mad delight. The offspring of my dream hath perished, My faith in being passed away; The godlike hopes that once I cherish Are now reality's sad prey. As once Pygmalion, fondly yearning, Embraced the statue formed by him, Till the cold marble's cheeks were burning, And life diffused through every limb, So I, with youthful passion fired, My longing arms round Nature threw, Till, clinging to my breast inspired, She 'gan to breathe, to kindle too. And all my fiery ardor proving, Though mute, her tale she soon could tell, Returned each kiss I gave her loving, The throbbings of my heart read well. Then living seemed each tree, each flower, Then sweetly sang the waterfall, And e'en the soulless in that hour Shared in the heavenly bliss of all. For then a circling world was bursting My bosom's narrow prison-cell, To enter into being thirsting, In deed, word, shape, and sound as well. This world, how wondrous great I deemed it, Ere yet its blossoms could unfold! When open, oh, how little seemed it! That little, oh, how mean and cold! How happy, winged by courage daring, The youth life's 

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