impels the motion of my heart.  I am not Resignation’s counterpart.  If that I teach, ’tis little the dry word, Content, but how to savour hope deferred.  We come of earth, and rich of earth may be; Soon carrion if very earth are we!

     The coursing veins, the constant breath, the use
     Of sleep, declare that strife allows short truce;
     Unless we clasp decay, accept defeat,
     And pass despised; ‘a-cold for lack of heat,’
     Like other corpses, but without death’s plea.

     — My sister calls for battle; is it she?

— Rather a world of pressing men in arms, Than stagnant, where the sensual piper charms Each drowsy malady and coiling vice With dreams of ease whereof the soul pays price!  No home is here for peace while evil breeds, While error governs, none; and must the seeds You sow, you that for long have reaped disdain, Lie barren at the doorway of the brain, Let stout contention drive deep furrows, blood Moisten, and make new channels of its flood!

— My sober little maid, when we meet first, Drinks of me ever with an eager thirst.  So can I not of her till circumstance Drugs cravings.  Here we see how men advance A doubtful foot, but circle if much stirred, Like dead weeds on whipped waters.  Shout the word Prompting their hungers, and they grandly march, As to band-music under Victory’s arch.  Thus was it, and thus is it; save that then The beauty of frank animals had men.

— Observe them, and down rearward for a term, Gaze to the primal twistings of the worm.  Thence look this way, across the fields that show Men’s early form of speech for Yes and No.

     My sister a bruised infant’s utterance had;
     And issuing stronger, to mankind ’twas mad. 
     I knew my home where I had choice to feel
     The toad beneath a harrow or a heel.

     — Speak of this Age.

     — When you it shall discern
     Bright as you are, to me the Age will turn.

     — For neither of us has it any care;
     Its learning is through Science to despair.

     — Despair lies down and grovels, grapples not
     With evil, casts the burden of its lot. 
     This Age climbs earth.

     -To challenge heaven.

— Not less The lower deeps.  It laughs at Happiness!  That know I, though the echoes of it wail, For one step upward on the crags you scale.  Brave is the Age wherein the word will rust, Which means our soul asleep or body’s lust, Until from warmth of many breasts, that beat A temperate common music, sunlike heat The happiness not predatory sheds!

— But your fierce Yes and No of butting heads Now rages to outdo a horny Past.  Shades of a wild Destroyer on the vast Are thrown by every novel light upraised.  The world’s whole round smokes ominously, amazed And trembling as its pregnant Aetna swells.