Of paths that once were endless, who ascends{38}

{38}

The peaks that once in heaven seemed to glow,

Only to see the glory spread below;

For whom the rose of eve, the morning’s gold,

The starlight shining over field and fold,

The voice of wind and wave, the wild flowers’ scent,

Waken a want where once they brought content.

He dreams: the vanished wonder that those days

Of childhood showed him on familiar ways

He cherishes,—he dreams that they exist

On pathways still afar or somewhere missed.

Where knowledge from his world the beauty stole,

The inborn light of beauty in his soul

Relumes it, and endows a world unseen

With all the splendour of the might-have-been.{39}

{39}

Pleasures beguile him, and that light within

Lends its own beauty to the face of sin,

Or flares to fire of passion that consumes

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